The Importance of being Evans
by Firazh
Summary: Harry Potter is fed up with being well ... Harry Potter. And so he gets his name legally changed to Harold Evans. But soon he discovers that there are unfortunately always unforeseen consequences. AU: Set in third year, there shall be meetings with werewolves, animagi godfathers, and confused potion masters, as well as Dementors and demented journalists.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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"And now Ladies and Gentlemen," Albus Dumbledore, Warlock extraordinaire and headmaster of Hogwarts, school for the magically gifted, raised his voice. "One last announcement before we head out to meet our students." His usually twinkly eyes seemed even brighter today, and there was an edge of laughter to his otherwise solemn mien.

"It concerns one of our more ... prominent ... pupils. Mr. Harry Potter ..."

"Bah, I should have known it would be about the Gryffindor Golden Boy," a cold voice interrupted him with disdain. The potions master raised his eyebrow in challenge and continued with a bored expression. "So what has your little wonder-boy done this time?"

"Yes, yes, Severus, I know you do not approve of him, and think him an arrogant attention seeker," Albus' eyes were twinkling merrily in anticipation.

"Therefore, it might come as some slight surprise to you to learn that Mr. Potter appears to partially share your sentiment. As a result he has, with my help and full support of course, recently changed his name. Or as he put it to me, 'he was fed up with being Harry Bloody Potter all the time', and thus he wished to be known henceforth as Mr. … Harold Evans."

'Yes, Severus," Albus all but purred, as the suddenly utterly dumbfounded face of Severus Snape was indeed priceless to behold. The rest of the staffroom bore almost equally shocked expressions.

"He told me that he was really tired of his old name, as it has become to mean too many things he considers himself not to be. And while he did not wish to renounce his father as such, he would still prefer to be known and addressed by his mother's maiden name from now on," he continued his explanation calmly, all the while inwardly all but bouncing in glee.

"As a consequence, he has this summer undergone a magically binding name change, fully divesting himself of the Potter heritage. He is therefore no longer required by either law or magic to respond in any way or form to the name of 'Potter', as he is in effect legally no longer a member of that family."

The headmaster beamed happily as babble broke out all over the room. However, he kept most of his attention on Severus Snape, old enemy and indeed oft-time tormentor of the late Harry Potter. Or to be more precise, enemy of the boy's father. Severus had never forgiven James Potter for tormenting him and aiding in his separation from Lily Evans. Who had been the only real friend ever of the dour and bitter potions master, as Albus knew only too well.

And the man had been unable to see past the boy's looks and name to actually consider Harry himself. Whose character was in fact rather different from his father's. And while Severus had loved Harry's mother dearly, he had always failed to recognise her strong influence in the boy. But now Severus Snape was looking even paler then usual, and there was a pained look on his face. He was also staying uncharacteristically silent.

Harry had presented him with a lot of reasons for wanting to change his name, but Albus rather suspected that one had been absent. However, he was secretly rather sure of this other, unvoiced one: that Harry didn't want Severus Snape to continue hating him for his father's name and looks. And yes, dear Severus was in for some more surprises there. The old wizard smiled contentedly to himself as he made his unhurried way out of the staff-room, knowing full well that he was leaving confusion behind him.

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Several hours earlier, Harry had been feeling rather nervous. How would his friends and all the others at Hogwarts react to the changes that the last summer had made in him? Of course he was still really the same person, but the glasses were gone, and he wore his dark hair long and held back neatly at the nape. It had also acquired a decided auburn tint thanks to a nifty hairdressing charm. He still had to wear some of it in his face to cover the scar, though. He simply could not bear to have that visible all the time. But the hairdresser had done an amazingly good job and the result was quite stylish. Having most of his hair pulled back also affected the general shape of his face. Taken together with his now very obvious startling bright green eyes, the total effect made him resemble his mother a lot more than before.

Add to that a rather more graceful and upright posture, as well as a new wardrobe, and the picture he presented was astonishingly different. This summer had truly been the best of his life. Not only had there been interesting lessons in a variety of subjects, but not being constantly overworked allowed him to actually prepare well for the upcoming school year. He had never felt so confident about himself before - which clashed horribly with the bad case of nerves he was currently suffering from. How could one possibly feel both ways at the same time?

He settled more comfortably into the back seat of his uncle's car - Uncle Vernon had been studiously ignoring him during the drive so far - and let his mind drift back to the start of this amazing summer.

Harry remembered his moment of epiphany quite clearly. He had been weeding the flowerbeds, and had felt terribly bothered and upset. He had absolutely hated being Harry Bloody Potter in that moment. He had been taking this out rather forcefully on the weeds, pulling them out and throwing them almost spitefully into a bucket. And then he had found it. Under the bushes behind the flowerbed there had been an old shed snakeskin, by the looks of it from some harmless grass snake.

And then inspiration had suddenly struck. He would always be himself ... but he was _not_ the name. That was just a description. A designation. Just a skin waiting to be shed because it no longer fit him. Because the name was not _him_. Really not him, as everyone seemed to have their own idea what the name meant. It was the stupid name that was constantly giving him trouble. Okay, it did not cause all of his problems, but definitely a lot of them. And he remembered grinning almost manically as he thought: 'yes ... yes ... the name has to ... go!'

Later, after cooking dinner and doing the dishes afterwards, he had escaped to his room and penned a note to his headmaster:

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Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I have come to a realisation today. I really do NOT like being Harry Potter.

But as much as I often simply wish I was not me, I cannot ever escape being me. I'm aware that this sounds a bit stupid. But I know that I can't change who I am. However, what I can change, and would really like to, is my name. It seems to me that it represents a lot of what I feel is wrong with me. Harry Potter is the Boy-who-lived. Harry Potter is a magical freak. Harry Potter is constantly in the papers. Harry Potter is who everyone either adores or hates, just for being Harry Bloody Potter. But Harry Potter is a myth and a fantasy. I have never really lived the life of Harry Potter. To everyone who likes me, I'm merely Harry. To all the people who hate me, I'm 'Potter' or 'Mr. Potter'.

I don't want to hurt my dad by getting rid of his name, but well, I can't anymore really, can I? It's not as if he will ever know. And if he is still around in some way, and does love me, I hope he would realise that his name has unfortunately come to mean a lot of bad things to me. And that he would not grudge me a (possibly) happier life without it. After all no matter what, I will still be his son. I will always be his son. But I don't want to be 'Potter' anymore.

So I have been thinking, and I wonder if it is possible for me to change my name to my mother's maiden name? I think I would quite like to be Harold "Harry" Evans. It's even (pun intended) a much more even name, which might help me become more even-tempered. I might feel less cross all the time, if people keep reminding me that I should be Evans instead. Yes, I know, this last bit was probably very silly but still ...

Anyway I hope this finds you well, and I would very much like to have your advice and help in achieving this, my heartfelt wish.

Yours,

sincerely,

Harold "Harry Potter" Evans (hopefully)

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Yes, it had felt good. And perfectly right. It was the thing to do, and it felt like a huge stone had been lifted from him. He would not have thought a name could feel like a millstone round one's neck, but it really was a shackle. A constraint he desperately longed to cast aside. And he felt his heart lift with hope as he watched Hedwig lift away on silent wings after he gave her the message to deliver to the headmaster.

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He also remembered the following day when he had received his answer. Hedwig had winged in and he gave her an owl-treat as he relieved her of the scroll, letting her settle on her cage. His heart had been beating rather fast, which made him realise again just how important this matter was. He had clutched the scroll tightly for a moment, dreading a negative answer, that the headmaster would have good reasons to deny him his wish. Because he really wanted to shed 'Harry Potter'. Exactly like the snake sheds her skin and is reborn ... still exactly the same, and at the same time ... all new. He suddenly smiled and opened the scroll.

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Dear Harry,

I must admit your letter took me very much by surprise. My first impulse was, I have to say, to question your reasons for such a drastic step. But upon further thought upon your situation, I must sadly agree that the constant expectations which the wizarding world has of you add a considerable burden to your already difficult life. And if the solution you have proposed can ease this load, I should do what I can to help rather than hinder you.

There are, however, consequences which you need to take into consideration before taking this step, and they depend on how you wish to achieve this. Because to the best of my knowledge, there are two possible ways for changing one's name.

One is to change your name the Muggle way, which would merely affect certain official documents, and that mostly on the Muggle side of things. Consequently the outcome would be largely cosmetic, as this has few ramifications in the magical world.

The other way would be a magically binding name change, which would likely have considerably more drastic effects. I cannot fully advise you about all of them at the moment, as I first need to look into that matter in detail myself.

But one of them is that you would probably end up rejecting your Potter heritage, including part of your inheritance. As I mentioned, I do not know yet if this would really be the case, but I fear it is likely. I will need to consult with the experts at Gringotts, as well as some contacts at the ministry. The benefits of such a magical change, however, would be that you would definitely not be constrained anymore to answer to 'Mr. Potter'.

But most of all you must realise, dear Harry, that if you should take this severe step, there would be no going back. Once you have shed the Potter name, you cannot ever take it up again. So while I do agree that this could be a good thing for you, I need you to be absolutely sure of it. Therefore I would like you to write down all your thoughts about the matter, and the reasons why you wish to bear a different name. Because you will need to be truly certain of your decision, if you really want to go through with this.

But be assured that if you and I come to the conclusion that yes, this is your true wish, and also the best for you, then I shall do all that is in my power to help you achieve it.

Yours,

sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

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Harry couldn't help but smile as he put the scroll down onto his rickety desk, carefully smoothing out the parchment. The headmaster's reply was … promising. And while he already knew what he wanted, it would still be a really good idea to also know exactly _why_ he wanted it. So there could be no doubts and second thoughts later on. And he would have all his arguments collected together, in case anybody else questioned him about his decision later. But his mind was made up. Now to convince Dumbledore that he had really thought it through … and to go along with it. He drew out a piece of paper and slowly started to compose his answer ….

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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Dear Professor Dumbledore,

please find enclosed my thoughts on 'Why I hate being Harry Potter'.

I must confess that this matter fills me with a lot of anxiety. I constantly keep thinking (and even dreaming) about it. I feel as if I'm stuck in a skin that is too small for me. I found a shed snake-skin the other day, and it was what made me start thinking about this. Because a snake can shed its skin and be all new and shiny, while still being exactly the same in any way that counts. And my name feels like an old skin which is constricting me as I'm growing out of it. I feel the overwhelming urge to rid myself of it. But what I want to change, is not so much myself, but how others see me. And a large part of that is my name. Far too many people have ideas of what I must be like from just hearing my name. And so I feel that shedding that name might make them actually look at me, instead of who they think I am.

So yes, I'd really like to go for the full magical name change.

Yours,

Sincerely,

Harold "Harry Bloody Potter" Evans (still hopefully)

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Dear Harry,

thank you very much for your very thought-provoking writings on 'Why I hate being Harry Potter'. Though I feel the title does not really do it credit, as your reasoning is amazingly mature for one of your age. I must admit, however, that some parts of it left me feeling rather disturbed. I think we will need to discuss these matters in more depth soon. I also found your snake-skin metaphor very enlightening and profound. It is good to know that you fully realise, that while you may shed your name, you yourself will essentially remain the same.

I have by now been able to consult with the authorities I mentioned in my last missive. Since you want to break as much from your old name as possible, you would indeed need to undergo a magically binding ritual ceremony. It is similar to an adoption, only in reverse, and not surprisingly it is not often performed. But just as I had thought, there are some rather severe consequences. Not insofar as most of your inheritance is concerned, as the larger part of that does not require you to bear the Potter name. So you would still remain quite wealthy.

You would, however, loose the parts which are tied directly to the Potter line, as you would essentially be leaving the family. The ritual would also magically sever you from your remaining distant relatives on your father's side. Since quite a few of them were actually connected with Tom Riddle, I assume you would not overly grieve on that front. But you would undeniably disconnect yourself from your father and his forebears, and there would be no going back afterwards. The family name of Potter would become obsolete, and the assets belonging to the Potter line would fall into the hands of the ministry, as there are no other close relatives remaining.

Also, as she is your current guardian, we will require the agreement of your aunt for this venture. So if you still wish to go through with this, despite all the consequences, it might be helpful if you could prepare her for a visit on my part to arrange the necessary paperwork.

Yours,

sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

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Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I've thought (it's all I do these days really) upon the matter (some more), and yes, I want to go through with this. I do feel a bit bad about doing this to my father, but as he's no longer with me to actually be hurt by it, I hope he would not grudge me this chance at becoming my own person. As for any other ancestors of mine – well, I'm sorry to have say that I don't know anything about any of them. I've always been told that the Potters were an old pureblood family, but I don't even know the names of my grandparents. So well, it will hardly be a hardship to loose them, if you know what I mean.

As for severing ties to the rest of the pureblood families - good riddance to most of them. And as for my inheritance, if as you say, most of it will remain mine that's fine. It's a real shame that the ministry will get its greedy fingers on the rest of it, but what can't be helped, can't be helped. Please do not tell me how much or what it would be, as I can't miss what I don't know about.

I've got to admit that I don't know how to talk about this with my aunt. She doesn't know about the 'I'm quite wealthy bit' either, as I've never informed her of it. If this surprises you, then there may be other things that may surprise you as well. At least I hope that you don't know about them. I think I'd much prefer it, if you didn't. Given what you wrote about 'feeling disturbed', I think you didn't, really. But if you had known all along, well. I don't know how I'd feel about that, if you had. Known, that is. And now I've got something new to worry about.

Anxiously awaiting your reply and hopefully a visit soon,

yours,

sincerely,

Harold Evans (please!)

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Dear Harry,

as a consequence of my visit with you and your ... relatives, I have come to the realisation that I have done you a most grave injustice. I now know that your childhood with your aunt's family has been far from ideal. I also know that you question my decision to keep you with them, who did not love you and have mistreated you. Let me start by explaining why I sent you to them in the first place. You know, of course, the argument of the blood wards to keep you safe from ... let us once again call him Tom Riddle. I am aware that you consider that argument lacking, as apparently he was gone and could do you no further harm.

But while he himself was indeed gone, his influence was not. Not only were many of his servants still at large to try to do you direct harm (hence the wards), but his influence can be felt in the ministry to this very day. Sadly, not even Hogwarts is entirely free of it. I am sure I need only mention Mr. Malfoy senior to make you understand this point. The other reason for my decision, however, was that had I not placed you with your Muggle relatives, there would literally have been a bidding war amongst the pureblood families to adopt you. As the Potter family has plenty of distant relatives amongst many of those families, many of them could have applied for your custody.

And I do not think I need to point out to you that many of them were in Tom Riddle's camp, and unfortunately some of those were the most likely candidates. I know it will shock you to learn that you are in fact related (distantly, I assure you, but nevertheless) to Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange through the Black family. I simply could not risk you falling into such hands.

But where I quite simply failed you, utterly, was in not making sure that your relatives treated you better. Please understand that in wizarding society any magical child is considered such a precious gift, that the very notion of mistreatment was inconceivable to me. I simply never considered that they might be less than pleased with your presence in their lives. But this is an explanation, not an excuse. I fear nothing can really excuse my short-sightedness and carelessness. For that I can only offer my humblest apologies, and hope that you will eventually find it in yourself to forgive me.

But inasmuch as I still can at this point, I wish to try and make amends. There are limitations to what may be done, as I can currently still not remove you altogether from the Dursleys. I will, however, definitely make sure that they treat you well from now on, and I cannot but view your current desire as very beneficial to your future well being. Therefore I will do whatever is in my power to help you become Harold Evans as soon as possible.

Another way in which I might be able to aid you in distancing yourself further from old perceptions, is helping you change your outward appearance. One important aspect of that would be your glasses. Wizardly opticians have in the last years made great advances in eye treatments and magical contact lenses similar, but superior to those developed by Muggles. That would likely greatly affect your appearance, as your eyes are, indeed, one of the features that you have inherited from your mother. It would also have the added benefit that you could not lose your glasses anymore, or have them break at an inopportune moment.

Another possibility is your hairstyle. That unruly mop of yours (quoting several mutual acquaintances here) is one of the characteristics where you currently strongly resemble your father, who used to have the same problem with his hair. So you might consider a visit to a good hairdresser. And finally, much as I know that teenagers usually hate being reminded of this fact, there is your posture. Like most of your peers you tend to, forgive me, slouch. While a lot of this is due to growing and having to adjust to constant changes in your body, it is a tendency you can train yourself out of.

Again forgive me please, as I know that the following subjects are often tender points in those of your age. But if you wish, I could also arrange for lessons in dancing and social graces (which sadly have been neglected due to your upbringing in the Muggle world). There are, indeed, a number of subjects which could help you fit in better with the wizarding world. I would certainly be happy to arrange for tuition in anything you find yourself interested in.

You might also consider taking up some kind of martial arts training or gymnastics of some sort. Since you keep finding yourself constantly (much to my further dismay) in dangerous situations, everything that can give you an edge would be helpful indeed. For a wizard, the first resort should always be magic, but having a backup never hurts. And avoidance and a good balance is also a more important aspect of magic duelling than most people realise.

Please let me know if you wish to take up any of my suggestions, or have additional ideas of your own, and I shall see to it that matters are arranged. Please also ready yourself to be picked up early next Tuesday for a visit to Gringotts and the ministry. And finally, I can once again only offer you my deepest apologies and regrets.

Yours,

sincerely and ashamedly,

Albus Dumbledore

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Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Thank you very much for your explanations about the circumstances of my upbringing. Much as the subject remains painful for me, actually knowing that there were good reasons for it makes me feel a bit better. And much as I hated my life here, I shudder at the thought of having been at the mercy of people like the Malfoys. I know that you wanted to do what was right for me and if it didn't work out that well after all ... well, I will not hold it against you. I've been plenty guilty of not thinking things through and putting others at risk myself.

I'm looking forward very much to next Tuesday. I'm convinced that it will bring me some closure to finally leave Harry Potter behind. It was Harry Potter who had such a rotten childhood. I think Harold Evans will be a much happier person. I'd also like him to be a different person in other ways, so I want to take you up on your offers. I know I won't miss my glasses one bit, and if something can be done about this hair of mine, that would be great.

As for tuitions, I'd like to leave that up to you. I now suddenly find myself with a lot of free time on my hands, since my relatives no longer force me to do chores. As a result I'm starting to feel actually rather bored. I know that most people would expect me to go and play, but I don't really know how to go about that, I must admit. I've never been a 'normal' child, and I don't know how I'd go back to being one all of a sudden.

So if you could arrange lessons that you feel would do me good, please go ahead Professor, as I think you know better than me what I need. Some sort of sports or martial arts would certainly be nice, though. I'd also like to get something to read, since I spend a lot of time alone and I've always rather enjoyed reading. Oh, and if I could get my schoolbooks for next year soon please. Although this makes me feel awfully like Hermione. My relatives are now perfectly polite to me, but they remain distant and really uncomfortable in my presence so I've been avoiding them. Which brings me back to the 'too much time on my hands and I'm feeling bored'. Was this too much of a brick to be a hint?

Yours,

sincerely,

Harold Evans (soon)

oOoOoOoOo

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Dear Mr. Harold Evans aka Harry,

congratulations on your hopefully shiny new life! May it be better by far than the old one.

I know that the ritual itself was rather hard on you, but I hope that you will find the consequences to your liking. I must say I certainly found your new looks quite strikingly different already. I am sorry we had to hustle you around utilizing that cloak of your father's (one inheritance at least which will always remain with you, dear Harry), but I think you preferred it to walking around as Harry Potter. And once we had been through with the hairdresser and optician and the wardrobe shopping, no one seemed to pay you any attention at all. I hope that was to your satisfaction.

As we talked about on Tuesday, I have arranged for a number of tuition sessions for you. However, we need to avoid drawing attention to your home. So in order for you to meet with your tutors, your lessons will either take place directly at the home of Mrs. Figg, or at a secure location provided by me which you can reach by flooing from her place. Please find enclosed a schedule of your activities for the next week.

You will also have to consider if you wish for your friends to learn about your changes before the start of the next year. It would be easy enough to arrange visits to the Burrow. But I do not know if you want to risk any information leaking out beforehand. I have so far been successful at keeping this matter from spreading. Fortunately my friends at the ministry are adept at 'misfiling' the relevant documents, so it will be a while before anybody stumbles across them. And Gringotts is, of course, the soul of discretion itself.

Undoubtedly the press will have a field day once this becomes public knowledge. But while this is unavoidable once school starts again, you may wish for anonymity until then. If you want to keep this from your friends but still go visit with them, we should be able to do something short-term with concealment charms. This is a bit risky, as they can be seen through by anyone perceptive enough to notice the charms. Bill Weasley would certainly be able to do so, seeing as he is an accomplished curse breaker. I also would not put it beyond the twins, old troublemakers that the two of them are.

Yours,

sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

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oOoOoOoOo

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

thank you very much for your well wishes. I do indeed already feel almost like a new person. To be able to walk around Diagon Alley without anyone paying me any attention was an amazing experience. It probably won't last once people realise that I look different, but I shall always treasure the memory. And hopefully, Harold Evans will be less exciting than Harry Potter. You never know.

One thing which is rather strange (though not unexpected, I guess) is Aunt Petunia's behaviour. The whole family is, of course, puzzled that they can't call me 'Potter' or 'Potty' (my cousin's highly imaginative invention) anymore. Uncle Vernon always mostly called me 'boy', so not much has changed there. But Aunt Petunia ... well, let's say she appears to be struggling with herself. It seems I was quite right that this could affect how she reacts to me. She keeps giving me really odd looks, and once she even started smiling fondly (!) at me. This feels rather strange, but I guess I shouldn't complain if she actually starts liking me.

I'd prefer to keep the whole thing secret until the start of term. I've written to my friends to let them know that, thanks to your intervention, my family is now actually treating me decently. I also told them that you've arranged for activities which keep me rather busy, so they know that I'm feeling all right this summer. Mrs. Weasley has, however, invited me to the Burrow for my birthday. I think I'd actually like to go there, as I've never had a proper birthday party in my life. So if you could please arrange for the visit and those charms you mentioned, and well, if Bill is there I can always take him aside and explain. He works for Gringotts after all, so he should know how to be discrete, shouldn't he?

What I don't know is if I should let Ron and Hermione know. I've hinted a bit, but I feel reluctant to let them know the full extent of it. I certainly can't let them know about the name change. I don't think they could keep it a secret at this point. As for my looks, maybe we could do a sort of in between with the charms? Like leave the Harry Potter hair (TM), but get rid of the glasses. That way they can start getting used to it. And they'll see the new clothes anyway.

Yours,

sincerely,

Harold Evans (Yeah!)

oOoOoOoOo

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Dear Harry,

I am glad to hear that your aunt seems to be coming around. Given that you still have to stay with your relatives for a while, anything that will improve her conduct towards you is surely a bonus. And please remember, that should they make any move towards offering further harm to you, to inform me directly. And I include harm done to your spirit and feelings in this. You have already suffered enough under their mistreatment in the past, and I will not allow any further hurt to come to you.

I have arranged for your birthday visit to the Burrow, and shall be meeting you half an hour beforehand at Mrs. Figg's to put the charm on you. You will then be flooing from her place to the home of the Weasley's.

I believe it is wise of you to keep your friends and the Weasley family in the dark for now. Gossip has unfortunately a habit of spreading, and it might mean that the press could hear of this earlier than is absolutely necessary. And I believe you would prefer to enjoy the rest of your holidays without their no doubt fanciful conjectures. It is an unfortunate fact that the truth does not sell newspapers nearly as well as scandal and gossip. Maybe we should start requiring wizard's oaths of truthfulness from our journalists when they start working? I suspect that would cause a significant decrease in their number, though.

In any case I shall see you on your birthday.

Yours,

sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

oOoOoOoOo

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AN: I believe this will be the only chapter to consist solely of letters. In case you are wondering why I did not post Harry's: 'Why I hate being Harry Potter' essay, that just fit in much better at a later point. Thanks for the reviews, and just to make it clear: Harry is not trying to hide that he is Harry Potter, he just changes his last name. And then we shall all sit back with a big bowl of popcorn to watch as various people who have all been rather hung up on that NAME and Harry being his father's son deal with the situation. Insert mad author's cackling at this point.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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"Hey mate, you look great this year!" Ron exclaimed as he grabbed Harry and draped his arm over his friend in a one-armed hug. "They sure are feeding you better, too!"

Hermione meanwhile hugged the other half of him, but then frowned. "What happened to your glasses, Harry?"

Harry smiled back at both them happily. "Dumbledore had me taken to an optician and they gave me these permanent magical contact lenses. They are really great, you don't have to take them out all the time like the Muggle ones," he explained to Hermione. "And they should actually slowly improve my vision, too. So if I'm lucky, I'll not need them anymore in a few years. A bit like braces for teeth." He winked at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that and poked him. "Enough with the dentistry jokes. So how are you really doing this year?"

"Amazing, really. I'll tell you more about it later, though. There have been a lot of changes, but some are better kept quiet for now," he finished in a low tone. "And right now I think there are some more people I have to say hello too."

"Oh, of course. Meet us outside afterwards, will you?"

"Sure thing," Harry said, grinning at them before he went to greet Mrs. Weasley, who was busy in the kitchen. A lovely smell of baking cake filled the room.

"Harry!"

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," he got out before he was engulfed in a hug. Merlin, that woman always was very enthusiastic. Which was nice, but sometimes he wondered if she had no concept of personal space at all. Then again, with a family of their size living in that house, everyone would be used to living in each other's pockets.

He managed to free himself politely. "Thank you very much for having me over," he told her, smiling brightly.

"Of course, dear. I just wish we could see you more often. But Dumbledore keeps insisting that you have to stay with those horrible relatives of yours ..." she shook her head in disapproval.

"Oh, well, he has his reasons," Harry said hurriedly. "And they haven't been so bad this year, really."

"No, really," he reassured her, when she started to disagree. "Professor Dumbledore came and had a … word with them. Or rather a _lot_ of words."

His grin was probably slightly evil. But the memory of his dear relatives with their proverbial tails between their legs as they scurried away after Dumbledore was through with them was a really good one. They'd been treating Harry like raw eggs ever since. No doubt their good behaviour would eventually wear off. However, the headmaster had promised Harry that he would be paying them regular visits from now on to keep them in line. Yes, life was much better now that his relatives lived in fear of Dumbledore.

"Hmm. Well, as long as they treat you decently enough now ..."

Harry nodded firmly. "They are okay."

"Good, then. Anyway, don't let me keep you inside on this glorious day. Everyone else is outside. I just need to keep an eye on the cake," she burbled happily, winking at him.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said quickly and made his escape.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Outside he found Mr. Weasley seated comfortably at a big table that had been set up under an awning. It was going to be a hot day for once, and the man was contentedly sipping at a cooled bottle of Butterbeer. He smiled when Harry came up to him.

"Hello, Harry. Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, looking around for the others.

"I believe everybody else is down at the Quidditch pitch. They will be waiting for you, so hurry up."

The man beamed as Harry's face lit up. "Off you go!"

Harry hadn't brought his broom, but the Weasleys always had extras. And if they were old broom, well it was a friendly game. It wouldn't really do to show everyone up anyway. And indeed, everyone was just waiting for him to get started.

Soon afterwards he was in the air, dodging a Bludger as he tried to race Ginny. The younger girl was really good. He hoped she would try out for the Gryffindor team this year. Clearly all the practise she got with her brothers had honed her natural talent. And as he executed a tight spin, he realised once again how much he loved flying. Really, it was the greatest thing about being a wizard. And moments like this made it all worthwhile.

He was still smiling madly a while later when they walked back to the house. The twins had stayed behind to put away the brooms. Their matching wicked smiles had also promised the likelihood of some prank being planned. Charley was walking beside him, regaling everyone with an amusing anecdote involving a hungry dragonet and the head warder of the preserve where he worked. Apparently there had been a slight … misunderstanding between the two, which ended with the warden sporting a reverse Mohawk hairstyle thanks to a burn right down the middle of his head. The way Charley told the story was hilarious.

Ginny was on his other side. Somehow she had ended up clinging to Harry's arm. He had a slightly uneasy feeling about her. He wondered if she was really all right after what had happened to her last year. She also seemed to be the one most affected by his lack of glasses. All the others had taken it in stride, and even complimented him. But Ginny kept giving him odd looks. He found her staring at him several times, followed by her blushing and looking away again.

Ah, well. Girls, really who understood them. He looked over his shoulder to check on Ron and Hermione, who were walking right behind him. They looked to be arguing. Again. Sometimes he despaired of his friends. Hermione was mostly all right. She was quite sensible really, just terribly into books of course, and a bit too much in love with authority at times. But Ron was often still quite immature. And Harry was a bit concerned how his friend would take the revelation that Harry had done away with his famous name.

That Harry was no longer … Harry Potter.

Because Ron longed for recognition. Wanted badly to stand out from the crowd. So how would he react to Harry having rejected a name which embodied fame? Ron had never quite understood that Harry hated the attention. Wanted to be just … normal. He didn't get it that his friend would have swapped places with him without hesitation. If it meant he had parents, and a happy childhood. Fame could go hang. Money was nice, but ultimately worthless. Because there were things neither fame nor money could buy you.

So the thought of Ron finding out made his stomach clench. He just had a bad feeling about it. And it would be compounded by Harry having kept it from them for over a month. Which would annoy Hermione, but she'd get over it. But Ron would feel insulted by this lack of trust. Yet trusting in Ron's discretion, or worse, his acting ability … was setting yourself up for a fall. So once Ron found out there would likely be yelling. And pouting. And maybe a falling out, too.

He noticed that Charley had finished his story and was looking at him with some concern.

"Everything alright, Harry?" he asked softly. "You look rather upset all of a sudden."

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking of something," Harry replied lamely.

"Well, don't do that on your birthday, mate," Charley said, winking at him.

"I'll try."

"You do that," Charley said with an encouraging smile. Which widened even more as he looked past Harry.

"Hey, Bill," he shouted. "We weren't sure you were going to make it."

Harry spun around to face the eldest of the Weasley brood. Bill was coming towards them with a big smile on his face, which faded into puzzlement as he got a closer look at Harry. Ups. One question answered. He clearly needed to talk with Bill fast.

"Hello, Bill," he said, stepping forward to meet the older wizard. "Say, I'd like to ask you something. Could I have a quick word with you?"

"Sure, Harry," the red-head replied, blinking slowly at Harry. "Right here, or did you want to talk in private?"

Harry quickly looked around, and found everybody looking at him. Right. Definitely _not_ here.

"Ehm," he started out, blushing a bit under their stares. "Maybe in private? It's a little bit embarrassing."

Because really, it would be quite embarrassing if they found out that he was keeping secrets from them.

"Well, come on then, we'll head up to my room for a moment," Bill said, giving him a strange look.

"Thanks," he replied earnestly. "See you in a bit, guys!"

And he quickly ran off after Bill, who was striding away towards the house.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Once inside the room Bill shared with Charley, the older wizard closed the door and then took out his wand to cast a couple of charms on it.

"There," he said, turning to face Harry with a rather serious expression on his face. "Privacy, as requested. Now mind telling me why you are wearing a glamour to hide your quite fetching new hairstyle?"

"Ehm," Harry began again. "Dumbledore put that on me," he went on to explain, feeling flustered.

"See, we don't want everybody to know about it yet. If someone saw me like this … well, we want to keep it out of the papers for now. Because there is other stuff, and if they started digging around ..."

"What other stuff?" Bill asked, taking a seat on his bed and waving Harry over to sit on Charley's. Harry perched himself nervously on the edge of the mattress.

"I'll tell you, because Dumbledore thinks you can be trusted to keep silent about it," he started. "But you really need to promise not to tell anyone. Not even your family for now. Especially not your family, in fact. And it will all come out in a month anyway."

The red-head gave Harry a long, measuring look, but agreed.

"All right. As long as it's not illegal or harmful, I most sincerely promise not to inform anybody about what I will learn during this conversation," Bill said evenly.

"Oh, it's perfectly legal. Very much so," he sighed. And permanent. "Harmful … well, some people might have hurt feelings when they learn of it."

"My family, you mean?" Bill asked shrewdly.

Harry gave a sad nod. "Yeah, quite possibly. See, a week or so ago I got my name changed."

"Just your … name?"

"Well, not quite just my name. I sort of may have caused the Potter family to become extinct," Harry admitted, with a guilty expression.

"Oh. That was you? I actually heard the goblins talk about that ceremony, though of course they didn't say who it was. But since it hardly ever happens, it caused quite a stir," Bill said, looking rather flummoxed.

"Yeah," Harry replied, looking around the room to avoid Bill's eyes.

"So … if I may ask, why? Why do it?"

"It's kind of a long story, Bill. But in short, I just really didn't want to be Harry Potter anymore. And I got Dumbledore to agree with me, so you can be sure I got to think it through very thoroughly first."

"So what's your name now?" the older wizard asked, still sounding a bit bewildered.

"Harold Evans. I basically just took my mum's maiden name," Harry said, shrugging. "And yeah, I know about the consequences of ditching the Potter."

"Well, as long as you are sure?"

Bill clearly wasn't sure about it. And he was probably the most level-headed of the whole family, except for maybe Mr. Weasley.

"See, even you can't quite understand it," Harry pointed out a bit sadly. "So imagine how the rest of your family will react when they learn of it?"

"Ugh, yeah, I see what you mean about that," Bill said, his eyes widening almost comically. "Somewhere between horribly shocked and going spare. Though the twins will think it a grand prank, no doubt about that."

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Those two will. But the rest?" He was abruptly serious again. "And I just want _one_ summer without all the hassle. Dumbledore took care of my relatives for me, so they now live in mortal fear of offending him."

"Hah, that I'd have loved to see," Bill exclaimed. "He should have done that ages ago! When I think that my brothers had to break you out of your room because they'd dared to lock you in ..." he growled, looking quite feral.

"Yeah, he was splendid. So now they're okay, and I'm having a really great summer so far. And I just don't want to deal with the fallout yet. Once we go to school Dumbledore's going to announce it anyway, but until then … I just want one summer of freedom!"

Bill's gaze was disconcertingly sharp. "Is this why you did it? Because you felt you needed to be free of your old name? I think I can sort of understand why you'd hate it, actually," he continued, putting his head sideways in thought.

"You're always under pressure, aren't you? And people have such weird ideas about Harry Potter, the great hero. Yes, I think I see now ..." he trailed off, and his eyes were sympathetic.

"Thanks, Bill," Harry said earnestly, feeling relieved. "For being able to understand. That really means a lot to me. Because it's been horrible, and no-one seems to get it that I _don't_ want to be famous. That one of my biggest dreams is to be just … normal."

"Oh, Harry," Bill sighed. "This hasn't been easy for you, has it? And with all that has happened at Hogwarts, too. I hear plenty of stories," he explained, gesturing expansively. "More than some. As you said, Dumbledore trusts me and I sometimes do freelance work for him. Security and such, you know? So I know more than most about what's going on."

"In fact I've got a job from him coming up which involves you in a way," he added, eyeing the younger wizard. "He wants me to put warding runes in the Chamber of Secrets. Right now the thing is rather a big security hole for the school that he wants closed. Am I right in thinking that I'll need your help getting into it?"

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "Yeah, you would. So … warding runes. Sounds interesting."

"Oh, yes, runes are. Very much so. There is no end to the stuff you can do with them!" Bill exclaimed enthusiastically. A few minutes of examples and explanations later it was clear that he really loved the subject.

"Maybe I should have taken Ancient Runes as an elective instead of Divination," Harry mused, impressed by Bill's obvious enthusiasm.

"Divination, huh? Do I detect the influence of my lazy little brother in that selection?" The older red-head didn't sound very happy about that.

"You don't think much of Divination, then?"

"Well, it's fine if you have talent as a seer. But I've never understood why they even offer it at Hogwarts. There are damn few real seers about, and those usually get one-on-one training anyway. So teaching it in a class is rather pointless. Besides Trelawney is a bit of a fraud on top," he concluded with a roll of his eyes that spoke volumes.

"But you know, you can still change the elective? Especially if you have Dumbledore helping you now," he said with a speculative look at Harry.

"Hmm. I might at that. Ron will be annoyed at me for ditching him, but I'm afraid he'll be quite upset with me in any case," he sighed, looking sadly at the floor.

"Harry," Bill said, reaching across to put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "My little brother is a nice enough guy. But you shouldn't let him decide your life for you. And taking a useless subject at school just to please him … well, don't do it. Not unless you actually find the subject interesting."

Harry blinked at him. "So, I shouldn't try to please my friends?"

"If they really are your friends, then they'll understand that you need to be your own person, and make your own way. And Ron needs to learn to be his own person, too. I know he dreams of being recognised, but right now what I see is him latching onto you. And that isn't good for either of you."

"Oh. Well, he's been a great friend, but sometimes ..."

"Sometimes he's still very immature," Bill stated bluntly. "That's the downside of being one of the youngest in such a big family. There's always someone to help you out. You don't have much pressure to learn to stand on your own feet. And well, our mum does mother us too much sometimes," he rolled his eyes again. "She has a hard time letting go, if you know what I mean."

Harry could see his point. He'd never had anyone to depend upon. Had always been on his own, really. In a way he had latched onto Ron as much as the other had, only for different reasons. Because he'd been desperate for friendship. But trying to change himself, or hold himself back, just to please a friend … was probably a really bad idea.

"Right. I think I see what you mean. And you are right. I'll ask Dumbledore to change the elective for me," he said in sudden decision. "And Ron, well, maybe when he has to deal with learning about all this, he'll get to grow up a bit, too. I still want to be his friend," he said, looking earnestly at Bill who nodded encouragingly.

"But I'll stop trying to do stuff just to please him. I'll try to find things instead that are good for both of us to do together," he continued. "And I'll be there if he needs help. But if I really want to be free, I have to be free in this, too."

Bill looked at him with sympathy. "It'll be all right," he offered. "He'll come around. But he needs to grow up and learn for himself, and you can't do it for him. If you try, you are not really helping him. Much better he goes through a little bit of disappointment and hurt now, than a lot later. Because everyone needs to learn that lesson at some point."

"Yeah, you are right. Thanks, Bill," Harry told him. "Thanks again for understanding, and for all the advice. There aren't really many people I can go to for advice, you know," he added, suddenly feeling shy. "And well, I don't want to bother Dumbledore with stuff like that."

"Harry, I'd be proud to call you my little brother, too," the red-head replied with a fond smile. "So if you need any advice or help, or just feel like having a good chat, don't hesitate to contact me."

"I will," Harry promised simply, really meaning it.

"Good! And … right now I believe there shall be cake. We can use that as a distraction," he gave Harry a conspiratorial wink. "And if anyone asks us what we were talking about, we'll say it's a surprise. No-one can argue with a surprise!" he declared theatrically, getting up and striking a pose.

"Now onwards! For cake, chocolate pudding and err," his gaze fell on a poster stuck to the wall. "Quidditch! That's always a good reason for … everything!" he exclaimed, dragging a giggling Harry out of the room with him.

And there was, indeed, cake.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Dear Harry,

I write to you to explain about a matter you may have heard of from your friends and the Weasley family. Your godfather, Sirius Black, has escaped from Azkaban. He was sentenced there for his betrayal of your family to Voldemort, and the subsequent murder of a dozen Muggles as well as of Peter Pettigrew, another friend of your father's. He is likely dangerous, and thanks to his prolonged stay in Azkaban, his sanity is also questionable. Unfortunately it may be that he poses a danger to you, wanting to finish what Voldemort failed to do.

I do not honestly believe he knows where you live, but just to be on the safe side, try to limit the time you stay outside. Please always carry your wand and the emergency portkey I gave you on your person. Most of all, please make no detours when going to and fro Mrs. Figg's. You will, of course, be perfectly safe from hostile wizards while at your relatives, and Mrs. Figg's house has also been protected. However, I do not think you need to worry unduly, and Black will likely be caught again before too long. Still, a degree of precaution has never hurt anyone, and you seem to have the unfortunate tendency to attract trouble, dear Harry. So better safe than sorry.

I hope you had a good birthday party at the Weasley's. I heard that Bill was present. I trust that he did not give you any trouble?

Let me know if you wish for any further visits to the Burrow. I also believe the Weasleys have a planned shopping trip to Diagon Alley. Given the momentary general nervousness, I do not know if it is entirely wise for you to attend. Since you already have everything you need for the next year, you would not need to visit Diagon again. But I will leave the decision up to you. If you wish to go, however, I must insist on organising a security detail for your protection. Please let me know your intentions, and if you need anything else.

I will also come by sometime next week for a check up on your relatives. It would not do for them to 'forget' about treating you well. I believe your schedule for the rest of the holidays is also pretty set, but tell me if you want anything changed about it.

And finally the Weasleys have contacted me to ask if you could stay with them for a week before school starts. Again, I will leave that up to you. Just let me know so I can have matters arranged.

Yours,

sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry stared at Dumbledore's latest letter glumly. He had a godfather? Who had betrayed his parents, and was a murderer? And who might be out for Harry's blood? Well, nothing new there, then. Apparently he couldn't even manage to be normal in regards to his godfather. His just had to be a secret Death Eater and mass-murderer. And now the man had escaped from prison. Which was supposedly impossible. But what was ever normal for Harry … Evans.

Really, it had been too much to hope that a simple change of name would stop weird stuff happening to him. Weird and dangerous, he reminded himself. On the other hand, his changed appearance might throw his godfather off, if the man managed to find him after all. Because everyone always talked about how much he looked like his father. And now he didn't really anymore.

Still, there was no point in worrying about it. If he was safe, he was safe, and if not … he could just try his best if it happened. And not think about how in his life, 'if' had an unholy tendency to turn into 'when' instead. Meanwhile he had a reply to write to the headmaster ...

.

oOoOoOoOo

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I did have a very nice birthday party with the Weasleys. And one of the best things about it was the talk I had with Bill.

I told him about the name change, which he'd actually heard of, though my name wasn't mentioned. It seems the goblins were gossiping about the ceremony, though. Anyway, I managed to get him to understand why I went through with it, which felt great. I'm afraid not many people will really understand it. He also gave me some good advice about how I should handle Ron. Because Ron will likely not take this very well at all.

Bill also offered to be a big brother for me, and to come to him for advice and help if I needed it. I really like him. He was also not happy about my choice of elective for the coming year, and I've come to see his point. Do you think I could still change from Divination to Ancient Runes? Bill was really enthusiastic about the subject, and I'm afraid he's managed to infect me. As well as put me off Divination. In any case, I believe Runes will be more useful for my future. So if it's still possible at all, I'd like to change my elective. Maybe we can talk about it during your next visit?

I think I'll leave off going to Diagon Alley again. The thought of trailing security guards is rather off-putting. And well, it was quite hard to keep the Weasleys from asking me too many questions. I think they suspect something is up, and are trying to nose it out of me. Much as I like them, this makes me feel a bit stressed. So let's just leave the trip. However, if you do get my elective changed, I'd need you to get me the books for Runes, please. I think I'd also rather stay here for the rest of the holidays, instead of visiting the Burrow again. I just don't feel up to constantly dodging questions. Plus I'd like to continue my tutoring sessions for as long as I can. I think they are really doing me good, and I'm rather enjoying them.

Maybe you could tell them that security concerns don't allow for further visits? That should satisfy them. And it also brings me to the other thing you wrote about. I didn't even know that I have a godfather! So to learn all these horrible things about him was rather a shock. I hope you are right about me not being in danger. Because the way my live has been so far, they probably should rename 'Murphy's law' to 'Potter's law'. Only of course it's no longer 'Potter'. But it seems like even as Evans, weird stuff keeps following me around.

In any case I'll try to stay in protected places as much as I can. Which is a lot easier now, since my cousin is no longer chasing me all over the place.

Looking forward to your visit,

yours,

sincerely,

Harold Evans (still very happy about it)

.

oOoOoOoOo

Sirius Black felt confused. He was pretty sure he had the right address. And he thought he'd recognised the woman living here as Petunia, Lily's sister. Of course he'd only met her once, at the Potter's wedding, so he wasn't quite sure.

But if so, where was his godson? So far he had only seen that horribly fat kid, who seemed to be the son of probably-Petunia and her husband, the human walrus. Baby-walrus was out and about a fair bit, always hanging around with his gang of friends. They weren't the nicest kids. He'd seen them throw stones at the cats of the old lady who lived over in the next lane.

Not that he cared much for cats himself, especially not those cats. They kept hissing at him when he got too close to their territory. And they refused to be intimidated by his snarls and barks, or cowed by his size. But well, that was cats for you. Still, kids that threw rocks at cats might get the idea to throw stones at him, too.

So he had growled at them. Unlike the cats, baby-walrus and his friends had been properly terrified.

He sniffed in disdain. What a cowardly bunch. He slunk into the neighbour's rhododendron again, lying down flat to soak up the coolness of the shaded ground. He'd nose around for another day or so. If he still hadn't seen Harry by then, he'd have to assume he had the wrong place after all. Or that Harry wasn't staying with Petunia.

He was close to dozing off in the summer-heat when he heard the door at Number 4, followed by footsteps hurrying in his direction. He perked up his ears and sniffed. That was a new scent, at least. As he peeked out from under the concealing shrubbery, he saw a boy rapidly approaching his position. He stared, his tongue hanging out.

Because could _this_ … be Harry? In that picture in the Prophet he'd looked just like James. It had been part of a human interest story about the Boy-who-Lived. The reporter had clearly gotten hold of a privately taken picture. Harry had been laughing together with his friends, in what looked like the Gryffindor common room. With his arm draped over his friend's shoulder. The friend who had a rat sitting on his other arm. A very familiar rat. Even the memory caused him to snarl silently in rage. Because that rat should have been … dead.

Footsteps passing him brought him back to the present. This boy looked … different. Yes, there was a certain resemblance in the facial features. But the hair wasn't at all like James', and he wore no glasses. The eyes were Lily's, though. In fact, the boy looked quite a bit like her. So, was this his godson after all? Even if he somehow failed to resemble James very much?

He'd been staring too long, and the boy had now hurried past him. It was a moment's quick decision to abandon the rhododendron and race after him. He managed to catch up with the boy just at the border of cat-territory. All of Sirius' instincts wanted him to jump up at the slight boy, wagging his tail happily. But he didn't want to knock him down. Really, the boy looked like a high wind would bowl him over. So he just stopped in front of him, yapping enthusiastically.

Only to see the boy back off, eyes widened in fright. This wasn't how it was meant to go. Harry … if it was Harry, he was still not really sure ... should not be afraid of him. And he should also not whirl around and bolt straight into cat-territory, dashing up to the door of cat-lady and fleeing inside without a single look back.

He let his ears drop. That could have gone better. And he was positive that the damn cats were sniggering at him, too.

He glowered back at them. He would not stay where he wasn't welcome. Anyway, he had a rat to hunt.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry leaned against Mrs. Figg's front-door, still panting from his mad dash. That had been a close call. Ever since meeting Ripper for the first time, he held no great love for dogs. Especially not big, black, feral looking dogs chasing after him. He shivered. To suddenly come face to face with that monstrosity had frightened him. It made him remember the time when Ripper had chased him up a tree, and his relatives had left him stuck up there for ages.

So, no, he didn't really like dogs at all.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I'd just finished this chapter, when I realised I'd totally forgotten about the whole 'trip to Egypt' thing. Which was, however, the reason for Sirius' breaking out of Azkaban. Also canon Harry didn't meet Bill until his fourth year. But I really wanted Bill as a 'big brother figure' and confidante for Harry. So simple solution: my version of Bill still works for Gringotts, but in England. Therefore the family didn't go to Egypt to visit with him. I'm sure they can find something else to spend the money on (mutters darkly to herself). And I hope I came up with a fitting substitute for how Sirius saw Scabbers in a picture.

Thanks for the reviews, and yes, assorted people will have their problems with Harry's decision. :)

oOoOoOoOo


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

oOoOoOoOo

And now the moment of truth had arrived.

His glorious summer of freedom was finally over, and so Harold Evans had to go and face the rest of the world, or at least those parts of it going to Hogwarts on the train. Since he hadn't wanted to stay over at the Burrow for the last days of the holidays, it had instead been arranged for his uncle to drive him to the Station, where he'd meet up with the Weasleys. He really didn't want to get on the train all by himself, though.

Of course they'd already seen him without his glasses, but the hair was what really made the big difference. And the butterflies in his stomach were definitely getting out of hand as he made his way across to where loud voices and an abundance of red hair created the usual happy chaos. Time to put on a brave smile. As he stepped closer to them, one of the twins turned around and gave a start of surprise.

"Harry?"

Now all the others looked around for him.

"What where?"

Puzzled looks gave way to surprise.

"What happened to your hair, mate?"

And Ron really did do shocked looks well.

"Are you finally going to join," Fred (possibly)

"the family?" and George (maybe) at least seemed very happy to see him.

He smiled a bit uncertainly at Mrs. Weasley, who looked very surprised as well.

"Actually, I wanted to look more like my mother. All that: 'he looks just like his father' has gotten a bit old by now," he explained, trying to turn it into a light joke.

"You sure look,"

"very handsome now," the terrible duo said approvingly.

"Well, Mr. Harry Potter," he flinched at Mrs. Weasley's words. She sounded slightly flustered. "You really have turned a new leaf this summer."

She smiled at him, apparently unaware of his reaction. "And you'll certainly stand out less with our crowd now," she added, winking at him.

He noticed Ginny staring at him wide-eyed and almost dazed. When he looked back at her, somewhat taken aback by her strong reaction, she flushed unbecomingly and turned away quickly to fuss over her trunk. Okay … that was … strange.

But that was hurdle number one taken. He was pretty sure they wouldn't mind having Harold Evans instead of Harry Potter, although Ron at least would likely not take that bit of news well.

He sighed. This was going to be one bloody long day. And a total blast. But he was all Evans now. Time to remember that, he thought as he stepped through the wall onto the platform.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Ron and Harry had soon found themselves an empty compartment on the train. The twins had helped them stow their luggage before bouncing off happily to look for Lee Jordan. Ginny fortunately joined a group of her year-mates. She was starting to make Harry feel uneasy. Now Ron was running an excited monologue about the latest Quidditch games, and was too caught up in that to notice that Harry's responses were limited to occasional grunts and encouraging nods.

Because Harold Evans was still quite nervous. This momentary peace was just a short respite before things came to a head. However, it was almost amusing how hardly anyone seemed to recognize him. Certainly plenty of people had poked their heads in while hunting for their friends, and left without any comment. Finally Hermione showed up to join them. She did a double-take upon seeing his hair.

"Huh," was all she said, however. "Hello, guys."

"So how have you boys been? I haven't seen you since Harry's birthday party," she added, smiling brightly.

"Fine, thanks Hermione," Harry replied, smiling back at her. "It's really been the best summer of my life so far."

"You sure look good," she commented as she settled across from him and Ron.

"I'd have hardly recognized you," she added idly, but her gaze was disconcertingly sharp.

Harry just smiled some more. "That was sort of the idea," he murmured softly, looking directly into her eyes. Ron fortunately seemed oblivious to the exchange. Instead he was poking at the covered basket that Hermione had set down on the seat next to her.

"What have you got in there?" he asked.

"Oh, let me show you," Hermione exclaimed. "I wanted to get myself an owl this year, but then I saw this one instead and instantly fell in love."

She opened the basket and scoped out what looked like an orange ball of fur. "Let me present Crookshanks," she said proudly. "He's part Kneazle, part cat, and really, really clever!"

As she proudly held the creature up, there was a sudden commotion in Ron's pocket. The red-head paled and clapped his hand there protectively.

"It's going to eat Scabbers!"

"No, he's not!"

"It's a cat! Cats eat rats!"

"It's my familiar! Familiars don't eat other familiars!"

"He so totally is going to do it. You keep that little monster away from my Scabbers!"

"He won't eat Scabbers!"

"He will! Keep him away!"

Harry clapped his hands to his ears as their argument quickly escalated in volume, looking back and forth between his two best friends.

"Guys?"

"I will not have that monster eat Scabbers!"

"He won't!"

"You just wait and see. He will, and then you'll be sorry you ever brought it!"

"Guys?!"

"My Crookshanks is NOT a monster!"

"He so is!"

"GUYS!"

They both suddenly turned to him, both babbling wildly, alternately defending and accusing the cat.

"Will you just shut up, PLEASE!" he finally shouted at them.

They stared at him, shocked, but at least they fell silent for a moment. He looked forbiddingly at both of them and drew a deep breath.

"Look, I'm sure Hermione will not let her cat eat your rat, Ron. You're being irrational. Just keep them in the dorms, and everything will be fine," he said firmly, giving them a stern glare. He could really do without the bickering and shouting. Though at least it seemed to have distracted Hermione from his new looks.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Stony silence now reigned in their compartment.

Which, admittedly, was a slight improvement over the shouting, but it still got on Harry's nerves. However, battle-lines had clearly been drawn over the matter. And likely there would be more skirmishes in the future, too.

Harry sighed inwardly. The upcoming revelation about his changed name might even be helpful there. Because it would make them forget their quarrel for a while. At least until the damn cat started chasing Ron's blasted rat around. Not that he actually cared about the rat, but he certainly didn't want to have Ron permanently upset about it.

He'd really been hoping for a more peaceful and, hah, even year at Hogwarts. Well, at least once the furore around his latest escapade died down. Something else was bound to happen to take the pressure off him. Though with his luck, it would just be something else targeting him and dragging him back into the centre of attention.

He stared morosely out of the window, watching the rain-drenched landscape recede.

He hoped the teachers, at least, would get over the uproar fast. And would get used to having Harold Evans in their class, who was a more attentive and studious pupil than Harry Potter had been. They'd likely appreciate that. Maybe even Snape. If the man managed to actually notice it.

In theory, he should be doing much better in potions this year. Because over the summer he'd been able to prepare for the coming school-year, which included reading the books ahead of time. Dumbledore had also gotten him some really helpful beginner's handbooks that any child raised by wizards would have been familiar with long before they entered Hogwarts. And those were also handed out to Muggle-born children when they got their introduction tour, so they could acquire the basic understanding of the subject before starting classes.

However, being _born_ to wizards, but _raised_ by Muggles, had made him fall through the cracks. Which meant he'd been struggling with many things that everybody else took for granted as basic knowledge.

The disaster was compounded by the fact that it had been _Hagrid_ who'd come for him to take him to Diagon Alley in his first year. Because while Hagrid was a dear, and really nice … he was also hopelessly clueless and unobservant. McGonagall or Flitwick, who normally handled the introductions for the Muggle-born, would likely have noticed his deficiencies, and taken steps to remedy them. Hagrid had done his best. It was a real pity that his best had simply failed to be good enough.

As it was, everybody seemed to have assumed that someone else had seen to him, or that he needed no help at all.

And Snape especially had taken Harry's ignorance for laziness and spoiled arrogance. Which had further escalated whatever problem the man had with him to begin with. Dumbledore had dropped a vague hint or two about that, but clearly hadn't wanted to discuss the potion master's secrets. Which was reassuring in a way, because he could hope that the headmaster would treat Harry's secrets the same. Ah, well. He'd just have to wait and see what reactions he'd get out of the git himself.

Around him, the silence continued to be deafening, broken only by the pages of Hermione's book turning. Ron still refused to look at her, and was staring out of the window like Harry. He also didn't look very happy. Splendid. That meant his friend would be in a bad mood for Harry's news to begin with. He sighed and shifted his gaze back to the window. Autumn seemed to have come early this year, and the landscape was depressingly shrouded in rain.

Anyway, the whole thing was just another instance of 'Potter's law'. Whenever something could go wrong for him, it inevitably would.

Which meant he'd have to take better care of things himself in the future, and never assume that others had all the relevant information. But as a scared, ignorant eleven year old, what chance had he really had?

And it wasn't even as if most of the adults who'd failed him had done so deliberately or out of spite.

Mostly they'd acted on incomplete information, or simply failed to consider the whole situation.

In the case of his lacking introduction to Hogwarts, no-one there had known that his aunt had hidden all knowledge of magic and his family background from Harry. And he, not wanting to be exposed as ignorant, when he was already so much in the centre of attention, hadn't told anyone either. The only ones who had at least partly known had been his friends, and they were just kids themselves. Hermione had done her best to catch him up with school-work. As for Ron helping him …

That was more difficult. Because a lot of what he knew about the wizarding world had come from either Hermione's book-gained knowledge, or Ron. And unfortunately too much of what he'd been told by his friend was, if not outright false, at least incomplete or misleading. A lot of this misinformation had been sorted out during summer, thanks to the helpful tutors Dumbledore had engaged for him. But to know that his friend, out of sheer ignorance or prejudice, had actually made some of Harry's problems worse …

No, he would no longer blindly accept Ron's values and ideas and go along with him out of a desperate desire to please his mate. And for their friendship to work, both sides would need to put equal effort in. So if Ron couldn't overcome his likely disappointment about Harry no longer being 'Potter' … he wouldn't bend over simply because he wanted to keep his friend. A decision easily made, because he couldn't bend on this in any case, even if he'd wanted to.

And he would not trust in what anyone told him blindly anymore. At the very least, he'd have to double-check his facts from now on. And keep an open mind regarding other possibilities. And not jump to conclusions, if he could help it.

Trust really was an issue for him.

He'd gotten himself into most of the messes during the last two years because he'd never learned to rely on adults. Or that you could ask for help. And might actually receive it. Provided you asked the right person. McGonagall hadn't been, with the Stone. And Lockhart had definitely not been right-person material, either.

So he needed to learn who would actually _listen_ to him. And be able to act reliably on what they were told. And neither see just a kid to be ignored, or be a total failure when it came to the actual helping part.

However, he had the headmaster now. Who clearly had been impressed by Harry this summer, and was now finally telling him things. And since he was obviously still feeling guilty about his mismanagement of Harry's life, he could be relied upon to want to be helpful. Not that he was likely to treat Harry like an adult, but it was still a marked improvement.

And Bill might be a real ally, too. Their talk had certainly been one of the highlights of this summer for Harry. Because Bill had _understood_. Having someone actually listen was a start, but them also understanding, and without having to go into endless explanations either …

Yes, Bill had excellent potential. And he'd sounded quite sincere in his offer to Harry, too. Well, he'd be able to tell more when the eldest Weasley came to ward the Chamber. He'd see then how Bill would treat him in a dangerous environment.

But aside from those two, he couldn't really see anyone else as a possible adult ally at the moment. Yes, some of them could be useful in certain situations, and had even proven their willingness to help. Like Hagrid. But trusting in Hagrid's discretion was impossible, which automatically excluded him from Harry's very short list of 'probably reliable adult, hopefully willing to listen to me'.

Which brought him back to the whole trust issue. Because 'probably reliable, hopefully willing to listen to me' somehow failed to line up with 'trusted'.

He'd never truly realised how little he trusted anyone, especially adults.

But then he'd also never spent so much time considering himself. And thinking about consequences.

He really needed to get into the habit of thinking things through carefully. Of planing, instead of blindly rushing in. Instinct would only get you so far. Or rather it was great when you were in the middle of a situation and had to think fast. Otherwise it was a rubbish idea to just go with gut-feelings. You should listen to those, of course. But switching on the brain for a second opinion was usually far preferable.

Gryffindor bravery was valuable. But so was Slytherin caution.

One allowed you to face things head-on. But the other would keep you from being blind-sided too easily, and make unpleasant surprises from behind less likely. So if he wanted to beat Potter's law, he needed to let his inner Slytherin out more to cover his back.

Because if you put both together …

He maybe stood a chance at succeeding.

This summer had taught him many things. Few of his lessons had been directly about magic. But all of what he'd learnt would be very useful for him. It had been a great summer, both enjoyable and productive.

But the summer had come to an end, and it was now time to face the consequences.

Even if the fallout turned out to be … spectacular.

.

oOoOoOoOo

He was eventually brought out of his thoughts by the arrival of the sweets trolley. And chocolate frogs and assorted candies finally managed to defuse the tense atmosphere in the compartment. Fortunately Ron was still quite unable to resist the lure of sugar.

Afterwards Harry managed to get a conversation started. He was, however, really careful to steer it away from any mention of _pets_ on the one hand, and _classes_ on the other. Because the 'I ditched Divination' cliff was also looming on the horizon. And he'd probably be better off to throw that at Ron while the red-head was still upset about Harry's name-change. Compared to that, the desertion would hopefully seem insignificant.

They were engaged in light banter when Harry felt the first stirrings of unease.

He'd felt much better now that his friends were talking again, and had all but forgotten about his depressive thoughts from earlier. But now it was as if a shadow was moving across the sun. And an increasingly cold feeling was stealing in. It was as if all happiness was slowly being sucked out of him.

He wiped his suddenly clammy hands on his trousers, and looked about with a rising sense of anxiety. Ron and Hermione fell silent, too. They seemed to share his apprehension, and there was fear in Hermione's eyes.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he croaked.

"You feel it, too, don't you?"

He nodded unhappily, trying without success to determine where the horrible feeling was coming from. Or what was causing it. Even Ron, who had been munching on yet another chocolate frog, was clearly affected now. His eyes were darting around, much like Harry's, and his freckles stood out in stark contrast to his pale face.

"I don't like this at all," Harry said. "Something is very wrong."

And the dreadful feeling kept getting worse. He shivered. Hermione appeared now almost paralysed with fear, and she was gasping for breath. Ron seemed frozen. Harry felt like a mouse trying to hide from a snake. It was slithering about out there, and if he made a wrong move he would be devoured.

The snake had already swallowed all his happiness. Now it would come and finish him off. Suck out everything good, until nothing was left but despair. He felt close to fainting as he helplessly watched the door to their compartment open silently. There was a dark figure there, shrouded in shadows.

And the figure was moving closer. Sliding towards him relentlessly. He dimly heard screaming through the blood pounding in his ears. A woman pleading. Pleading for his life. His. 'Not Harry', she begged. He knew it was his mother who was screaming. Dying from the horrible green light that filled his vision.

Filled his vision, until it turned black. He fainted.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Harry?"

A frantic voice was all but shouting into his ear. He winced, and flinched away from it.

"Thank goodness! When I saw that thing coming after you I thought … " Hermione broke off, but the despair in her voice made her meaning clear without any need to finish the sentence.

"I'm fine," he said automatically. In truth, he felt anything but fine, but he'd never cared for being fussed over.

His heart still felt heavy, and depression seemed to paint everything in tones of grey. The happiness was all gone. And on his closed eyelids he could still see the memory replay itself. And hear the screams, faint now, but endlessly repeated.

"Mr. ehm," he heard an adult male voice begin to speak, rather uncertainly.

"Harry Potter," Hermione supplied helpfully. He'd have preferred it if she hadn't told, but then she was no good when it came to resisting the voice of authority. Even if this person didn't sound all that authoritative.

"Mr. Potter," the voice repeated, though it sounded strangely doubtful. And also surprised. "You need to eat some of this chocolate. It will help you deal with the ordeal of meeting the Dementor."

Chocolate?! How was chocolate meant to help? And what the heck was a Dementor?

He winced again as hands helped him sit up. His head started pounding like crazy the second he was vertical.

"Harry? Are you all right?"

Concern edged Hermione's voice, and a small female hand came up to gently touch his forehead.

"Head. Hurts," he managed to gasp out against the pain, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

"I have some pain-relief potions in my luggage," the male stranger announced. "Try and get him to eat the chocolate while I go fetch it, Miss Granger."

"Of course, sir," she replied dutifully.

"Who's that?" he managed to get out before a piece of chocolate was shoved into his mouth.

He somehow avoided choking on it and started chewing. Surprisingly, it actually seemed to lift the grey fog of despair that was covering everything. He willingly accepted another piece from her. Apparently chocolate _really_ was good against depression.

"I think he's the new DADA teacher," Hermione whispered into his ear. "He said his name was Professor Lupin."

Harry nodded slightly to show he'd heard her, and continued chewing his chocolate.

"You should have seen this," she added quietly, awe in her voice. "He came in just as this _thing_, I mean the Dementor, was bending over you, and cast the most brilliant spell! It made this bright cloud which _tore_ through it and made it disappear."

The hero-worship in her voice was painfully obvious. Hopefully this wasn't going to be a repeat of her Lockhart crush from last year. Though at least this one seemed to do all right on the 'actually useful' part.

After he'd downed the potion the man handed him when he returned a minute later, Harry was quite ready to firmly establish him in that category. Professor Lupin turned out to be a soft-spoken, fairly nondescript man in somewhat shabby clothing, with a gentle smile. He urged Harry to eat some more chocolate, and told his friends to come find him if Harry didn't get better before they arrived at Hogwarts. Then he took his leave, quietly slipping out of their compartment.

But not before shooting Harry one last puzzled look.

.

oOoOoOoOo

After a few more pieces of chocolate Harry finally felt better. And he remembered that he hadn't actually thanked his rescuer.

"The Professor is next door, isn't he?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Good thing he was, too. Else that thing might have gotten you."

Harry scowled at him. "Yeah, thanks for the reminder, mate."

Ron flushed, but refused to back down. "Well, it's true," he said, jutting out his chin.

"I know," Harry sighed. "Why do these things always happen to me?" he muttered morosely and licked the last traces of chocolate from his fingers.

Hermione looked up from the pages of her defence book … apparently she was trying to find out if those Dementor-things were mentioned in it.

"You _are_ rather a magnet for trouble," she agreed. "Sometimes I wonder why I stick around you," she added with a soft smile that belied her words.

"Well, there has to be some reason you got sorted into Gryffindor," he teased her. "You must have a suppressed desire for dangerous adventures."

"Hmm," was all she said, but she was still smiling.

"Anyway, I'd better go and thank the Professor for his help," Harry said, getting up.

He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but it wasn't too bad really. When he thought that he'd be able to make it to the next-door compartment, he moved over. He hesitated for a long minute before entering, though. Something about the Professor's reaction to Harry had seemed … off. It was as if Harry hadn't been what he'd expected. He snorted. The man had probably just been surprised to find the Hero and Saviour of the wizarding world in a dead faint, unable to defend himself against … the thing.

He gave a soft knock, which was immediately answered by a quiet: "Come in."

He stuck his head in, and was met with a concerned look on the man's face as he looked up from his book.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Lupin said courteously. "I hope you are feeling better?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fine," he replied quickly. "I really wanted to thank you, Professor, for saving me. And for the chocolate," Harry added with a grateful smile.

The man answered his smile a bit uncertainly. "You are welcome, Mr. Potter. I was a good friend of your father's, you know. It's an honour to help his son."

Harry felt his smile freeze. Damnation. That was one thing he had _not_ considered. But how was he to know about any friends of his father's? It wasn't as if anyone ever thought to tell him these things. Just like he hadn't known about that godfather of his.

"Oh. I didn't know. In that case I hope you will forgive me."

He tried to avoid looking at the gentle eyes regarding him in puzzlement.

"Whatever for, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore will make an announcement tonight, I think. I hope you won't mind too much."

Before the man could make a reply or question him further, Harry quickly slipped out of the door and fled back to his compartment.

And he tried very hard not to think of it as running away …

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: This chapter is a prime example of how these things seem to sometimes write themselves. I had just noted down: 'Meeting Remus on the train and the Dementor incident' for after the quarrel between Ron and Hermione, and was working out a way to bridge over to that. Preferably in a manner that would take up a couple of thousand words. Then the 'stony silence' sentence came to me. And after that Harry just took over with his slightly depressive musings about his rotten luck and trust and stuff. I hope you liked the description of the Dementor coming closer. I wrote that while on my way to the dentist.

p.s.: My dentist is actually very nice and really talented, and I totally like her. Still … drills!

p.p.s.: Oh, and Remus wasn't in their carriage because I simply couldn't envision him sleeping through a shouting match. Instead he can be in the next compartment, having a nice quiet read, and come to their help when he feels Mr. Dementor come for its visit.

Also thanks for the reviews! Oh, and I believe by that point magic contact lenses are not that unlikely, all it would take is one Muggle-born to adapt some spells to the 'normal' ones. And since Wizards are just as vain as the next Muggle, they'd probably be quite happy to use them.

oOoOoOoOo


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

And now the main act was about to begin. His nerves were totally shot by now, and the horrible experience on the train had not helped at all. Though at least it had distracted Ron and Hermione from both their quarrel about the cat, and Harry's changed appearance. And they might also be more willing to go easy on him once they learned of the rest.

The rest. The great secret. Which was about to come into the open. His stomach clenched in apprehension. Hermione had argued with him that he should go see Madame Pomfrey instead of go to the feast. But he needed to be here when Dumbledore made his announcement. And really, after all the chocolate, he felt well enough. Whatever anxieties plagued him right now had other reasons entirely.

When he walked into the Great Hall he went largely unnoticed at first. But as he approached the Gryffindor table, flanked by his two friends, people started to actually look at him. And the widened eyes and whispers starting behind him showed clearly that they, too, thought he looked rather different. The difference that a few cosmetic changes could make was quite amazing. The other thing though … that would be much more significant. They'd probably talk about it for the next month.

After he settled at the table in the midst of whispering, Harry turned to look at the teacher's table. The headmaster had obviously been watching him and now gave him an encouraging wink and twinkle. Argh. Remember Evans, always Evans. Who was he looking at now though ... oh, the new Professor. And Dumbledore seemed a bit sad. Right. Good friend of my father's. Consequences, always consequences. He sighed and looked away.

And met an intense dark glare. Oh yes, that was the other problem. Snape. Who looked rather upset. And intense. Intensely upset. Incensed even. Dumbledore had intended to tell the teachers beforehand. So the git already knew. What he was going to make of it was another question. Potions was always such fun to look forward to. He realised he was staring back at Snape.

Harry noticed that the whispering had died down and Minerva McGonagall had stepped forward with the sorting hat. As he broke eye contact with Snape and looked at her instead, he found that she had been staring at him, too. Her stern face was unreadable. Well, she'd known both his parents, hadn't she? He sighed again. This evening was going to be one big headache, and it hadn't even started properly yet.

As the Sorting Hat began its song he wondered vaguely if he should have let Dumbledore resort him, too. Now _that_ would really have put the cat among the pigeons. Or rather the lion amongst the snakes. He amused himself with the thought of Snape's reaction to Harold Evans, Slytherin. He was certainly feeling less Gryffindor by the minute. And the moment of truth was rapidly approaching.

He sighed morosely. "You alright, mate?" Ron asked from his right as applause greeted a new Ravenclaw. "You look quite pale."

"Yeah. I'll be alright. Listen. You too, 'Mione. Dumbledore's going to say something soon. Please try not to be upset with me."

The two of them exchanged a look across him. Then they both looked at him suspiciously.

"What have you gone and done now, Harry?" Hermione whispered furiously as the Hat sorted a squeaking girl into Hufflepuff.

"Nothing bad. As such. Dumbledore knows anyway. It's just ... I didn't tell you about it. Pleaaase don't be mad at me for that," he pleaded and shrunk under their combined glare.

"Harry James Po.."

"Stop 'Mione, please."

"What, why? It's your name?"

"Partly. Very partly."

"What do you mean?"

The Slytherin table broke into shouts of approval.

"Just wait," he hissed at them. "And please wait with shouting at me until later."

"Oh, Harry. What have you been up to this summer?"

"You know, all the teachers have been looking at him strangely."

Brilliant observation Ron, really brilliant.

"Yeah, they know already."

"Know what?"

"Patience, young Padawan, patience."

Hermione giggled at that. Ron merely looked confused.

Well, the sorting was finished. Dumbledore was standing up. Time for the usual announcements.

Yep, forest still forbidden. Dementors around the school thanks to my demented godfather, joy. Knowing those ... things were out there was certainly a jolly thought. Maybe he really should join the Slytherins, at least his stomach surely was no Gryffindor tonight. And now for the grand finale.

"... and finally a notice regarding one of our pupils. From now on, your fellow student, Mr. Harry Potter, shall no longer answer to this name. Please address him as Harold Evans, as he legally had his name changed this summer. And now for the feast! Enjoy!"

The silence in which the headmaster settled back down into his chair was total. Absolutely everybody was staring at Harry. He peeked at the two flanking him. Hermione appeared stunned. Ron was doing flabbergasted chicken again. And this time the whispers were a storm. He vaguely wondered how many howlers he would get about this. And Professor Lupin at the teacher's table looked like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

Harry sighed and looked down at the food appearing on the table. His appetite had just joined his stomach in the Slytherin dungeons.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry felt relieved when the feast was finally over. It turned out rather fortunate that he'd lost his appetite, because his house-mates hardly let him eat. They peppered him with endless questions, and the tense silence on either side of him didn't really balance that. Nor was the heat he got from everyone offset by the glacial glare Snape gave him all through the feast. He felt like a beetle about to be dissected for ingredients. As for his two friends ...

Hermione's silence was … mostly considering. He could almost hear the wheels clicking in her brain. She was bidding her time, waiting for a better moment to spring her questions, and meanwhile absorbing everything he said to others. As well as cataloguing the reactions he got. But at least she was honouring his plea for delaying the shouting until later, and waiting her turn. He sighed. Because it was only a delay of the inevitable.

Ron, however …

His friend was almost radiating betrayed hurt. And a total lack of understanding. He felt Ron's eyes on him, looking like a kicked puppy. Yes, there would be yelling later. And upset, and tears, and explanations that went in one ear and out the other, because the red-head had his family's temper. And while he had a brain, it was usually on off when he was feeling upset. And he didn't listen well while he was shouting, so … yeah, it would be _such_ fun. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Just like Ginny …

Because the girl kept staring at him as if he'd suddenly grown two more heads and turned into Fluffy. Or as if her world had crumbled to ruin around her. It was hard meeting her eyes. If Ron was likely to yell at him as soon as he got the chance, Ginny looked like she was about to turn into a permanent water-sprout. Harry's gut clenched again. He'd expected Ron to take it badly. But Ginny was obviously worse.

As for the other students ….

The Gryffindors were a tad confused, and nosy like usual. And of course they tried to satisfy their curiosity, since he was right in their middle, and couldn't escape the questions. Amazingly, though, a few seemed even disinterested. See, Snape, not everyone's a member of the Harry Potter fan-club. Sadly they were the minority. And the twins couldn't decide between treating this as a supreme prank, or as fodder for making jokes.

The Ravenclaw table apparently found all this very interesting, and had turned him into the topic for an almost philosophical discussion. On hubris, of all things. As if he was committing sacrilege by ridding himself of an unwanted name. If John Smith wanted to be John Tailor instead, no-one would care. But because it was Harry Bloody _Potter_, it was worthy of notice. Was it really arrogance to want to be … less? To shed fame, and attract less interest? If so, then people clearly had some strange ideas.

The Badgers seemed the most disinterested. Of course they were gossiping like mad. But they were _always_ gossiping like mad. They had a tendency to behave a bit like a hive-mind. And to displays of horrible clingyness. For all that he'd wanted friends and acceptance when he first came to Hogwarts, the kind offered in Hufflepuff was obviously not for him. At least it was the only house the Hat had not considered for him. And since he was no stranger to working hard … was he disloyal? He thought not, but he'd grown up to rely only on himself, and closeness mostly made him feel … uncomfortable. See Mrs. Weasley and her hugs. He should be soaking those up. Instead they often made him want to flee. And to be an outsider in _Hufflepuff_ was probably about the worst thing that could happen to anybody.

As far as he could make out the Slytherins were trying to make witty little jokes at his expense, and failing miserably. Which was his one point of consolation. They clearly were the ones who had the least comprehension of what he'd done. Or what it meant. Because to a pure-blood who had grown up with a family, removing yourself from said family was probably … unthinkable. And they didn't know how far he'd gone in that. That he truly was no Potter anymore. That he'd been willing to have the Potters die out. That would be completely incomprehensible to them. Instead they likely only saw a ploy to achieve some goal or ambition. But really, why should he care what _that_ lot thought? He'd never amount to anything in their eyes, no matter what he did.

Which left the teachers ...

The staff table was mostly inscrutable. Of course, they kept looking at him a lot, too. But few of the teacher's faces showed anything more than a bit of honest puzzlement and mild interest. It seemed Dumbledore had been at his twinkly-eyed best at sowing confusion and leaving incomprehension in his wake, by being delightfully vague. Harry was by now firmly convinced that the headmaster's absent-mindedness was nothing but obfuscation, the sweets a distraction, and the twinkly eyes a tool delicately used to infuriate his opposition.

He took careful note who seemed hurt or disapproving, though. That new teacher was definitely affected, even though he wore a mask of gentle amiability. But there was bewilderment in his eyes when he looked at Harry, and disbelief. And he'd have to talk with Hagrid. The half-giant looked really puzzled when he glanced at Harry, and his drinking was heavier than usual. McGonagall looked her usual stern self, but there was something in the turn of her mouth that spoke of disapproval. Flitwick and Sprout mostly just seemed curious, and Hooch and Sinistra were about the same. He didn't know the other teachers personally, so their reactions meant little to him.

And Snape … was being Snape, glacial glares and all. Though something seemed a bit off about him. As if his heart wasn't quite into it. Or if his balance had been upset. Yes, potions would be such fun.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"All right. Spill it," Hermione demanded, tapping her foot. With her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face.

The two of them had dragged Harry away from the rest of their house along the way to the tower, and were now looking none to patiently at him. And Ron was obviously feeling hurt and betrayed. He sighed.

"You heard Dumbledore," he began cautiously.

"All he said was that you changed your name," Hermione replied fiercely. "But why did you do it? How? When? What made you think this was a good idea?"

"And why didn't you tell us about it?" Ron asked, with a 'kicked-puppy' expression on his face. "I thought we were your friends?"

"Yes, you are," Harry said firmly.

"But look at your reactions! Would you seriously have left me alone if you'd learned about this in summer?"

That actually shut both of them up. They looked taken aback, and Hermione had the start of an ugly blush creep up.

"You still should have told us!" she rallied.

"Probably," Harry allowed, swallowing hard.

"But is it really too much to ask for _one_ summer in my life to enjoy? It was wonderful, and I just didn't want to have to deal with this yet," he made a sweeping gesture including the two of them. "I'm sorry, if I hurt you by keeping it from you, but … I simply couldn't tell you," he finished lamely, looking pitifully at them.

"I just … couldn't."

They both stared at him. Ron finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

"I still don't understand why you did it in the first place," he said, sounding totally bewildered.

"Because I couldn't bear being Harry Potter anymore," Harry replied simply. Because that really was all the answer there was.

"But you _are_ Harry Potter!"

"No, Ron. I'm Harold Evans," Harry said firmly.

Ron spluttered. "But, how could you do that? Why don't you want to be yourself anymore?"

"Ron, I'm still quite myself. I simply have a different name. Which is actually my _mother's_, you know? The woman famous for sacrificing herself for my sake?" There was a decided edge to Harry's voice. And a certain amount of frostiness.

His friend just stared at him in utter confusion. "I don't understand you," he wailed. "You are Harry Potter! How can you not want to be Harry Potter?"

"Because I _don't_ want to be Harry Potter!"

"But ..."

"No, Ron, you don't get it. I hate the fame. I hate not being normal. I hate everyone having ideas about me. I hate how everybody thinks they know better than me who Harry Potter is."

Ron looked absolutely piteous. Clearly he didn't understand it at all.

"I'm perfectly happy not being Harry Bloody Potter anymore. It was my idea, and Dumbledore helped me because he agreed that it'd be better for me."

"Well, in that case," Hermione said. "It has to be all right. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let Harry do anything like this, if he thought it was a bad idea. And I think I do understand," she added thoughtfully. "It must be horrible to have all those people write about you, and hardly any of them get it right."

It was a relief to know that Hermione was okay with it. Even though she managed to be perfectly _Hermione_ about it. As in, it was approved by authority, therefore it was all right. And of course she'd detest printed falsehood with a passion. But he would take what he could get. Ron, on the other hand, clearly still didn't get it. Time for another angle of attack.

"Ron, it doesn't matter. Because I can't change this anymore. Harry Potter is history. There is only Harold Evans now. And I'm not sorry I did it. I'm just sorry I didn't tell you about it earlier, but we wanted to keep this out of the papers," he tried to explain yet again.

But Ron obviously had problems wrapping his head around the idea, and continued to protest. Because how could anyone not want to be Harry Potter? Everyone wanted to be Harry Potter!

At which point the former Harry Potter badly wanted to point out that if being Harry Potter meant having a Dark Lord after you, few people would really want to be him. Or live long once they were him, for that matter. But he kept silent and listened to Ron getting increasingly vocal in his attempt to understand Harry's decision. Or rather his failure to understand it. And Hermione finally getting involved in defending Harry's decision didn't help either. Instead of calming Ron down, it seemed to upset him further. The red-head was certainly taking this as a personal slight.

"Look, Ron, I really consider you my friend. And I want to continue being your friend. But you'll have to think about who _your_ friend is. If your friend is _me_, or _Harry Potter_," Harry finally told his friend seriously.

He'd dreaded this confrontation, and unfortunately it was playing out exactly like he'd feared.

"Because if our friendship depends on me being Harry Potter, then I'm sorry to say, but there is _nothing_ I can do. Harry Potter is no more. The name is gone. Obsolete. Finite."

And he gazed at his struggling friend with sorrow. His friend of the red face, silently working mouth and tear-filled eyes.

.

oOoOoOoOo

When they continued up to the tower, Ron stomped ahead. His stiff back and refusal to speak clearly said that he couldn't deal with Harry yet.

"You told Bill at your party, didn't you?" Hermione asked, coming up from behind him.

"Uh, yeah," Harry admitted quietly.

"Why him and not us?"

So Hermione _was_ still feeling a bit hurt about this after all.

"Because I had too?" he tried. "I already had my hair done like this, with a glamour to hide it," he explained, speaking softly so only she could hear. Maybe if he let her in on a secret now, it would help make her feel better?

"And he saw through it?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "So I had to explain about it. He promised not to tell anyone, though. I had a really good talk with him, about a lot of stuff. Uh and well, there is another thing," he added, eyeing her carefully to gauge how she'd react.

"Another thing?"

"Yeah, we got to talking about runes and stuff, and because of that I changed my elective," he told her. "I ditched Divination to take Ancient Runes instead."

She looked taken aback again. And rather pleased, too.

"But, well, I don't think Ron will be happy that I'm abandoning him in Divination," he admitted. "So he'll probably yell at me some more."

"Oh, Harry," she said, with laughter in her voice. "You don't do things by half, do you?"

"Yeah, I just hope he'll come around."

"He will. Eventually," she said, rolling her eyes. "So the new Harry is going to be more studious, too, or what?"

"Maybe?" He grinned at her.

"Dumbledore got me a load of tutors this summer, after he talked to my relatives. I had a very busy summer, but it was great, too. I learned tons of useful stuff. Fun stuff, too!"

"That's good," she said, smiling at him. It seemed he was forgiven.

.

oOoOoOoOo

But of course his day wasn't quite over yet. He vacillated in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. Ron had already passed through, and Hermione turned to face him when she realised he'd stopped following her.

"You can't delay forever," she pointed out, studying his face.

Harry sighed glumly. "No," he admitted.

"I knew this was coming, but … that doesn't make it any easier. And part of the reason why I did it was to escape the constant _nosiness_," he snarled. "I've never wanted to be a … a celebrity! I really hate it!"

He thumbed the wall beside the portrait with his fist. The Fat Lady looked at him with alarm.

"Is anything the matter, deary?" she asked.

He sighed again. "No, sorry dear Lady," he said in defeat. "I just have too much on my mind, I guess."

"Well, if you are sure?" she said doubtfully. "Better go in though. You don't want to be caught out here, do you?"

Hermione gave him a smile that was probably meant to be encouraging. Unfortunately it failed to reassure him. But he squared his shoulders anyway and followed her through the entrance when the Fat Lady swung her frame aside again to let them enter. There were a lot of people still in the common room, though at least Ron was gone. He couldn't see Ginny either and was absurdly glad about that. But the rest were clearly lingering to wait for him, because normally everybody would be up in their dorms, sorting out their luggage. His heart sank.

But there was no escaping it. If he was a Gryffindor, he'd have to face them. But that resorting idea was looking better and better …

Especially when the first two to descend on him were the twins.

"Oh, Harry," twin one said from behind him, making him jump and whip his head around.

"really, dear Harry," twin two made him turn it back just as fast.

They had him sandwiched. And he didn't like the gleam in their eyes ...

"how could you keep something,"

"so delightfully naughty and inventive,"

"to yourself?"

"We are wounded,"

"wounded, I say,"

"and I agree," the two stared at each other over Harry's head, their rhythm momentarily broken.

"Anyway, we are hurt that you didn't," twin one took the flow up again.

"feel like you could confide in us,"

"when you performed such,"

"a wonderful prank,"

"on absolutely everybody!" they chorused enthusiastically.

Harry felt his stomach clench. Just like he'd told Bill … those two would think it all a grand prank. Only it wasn't. And having it treated as such … was making him angry. Because they were every bit as bad as the rest. Assuming things. Inferring from their own expectations. Of course everybody did that. But he still didn't have to _like_ it. Or just take it lying down.

And, really, it was the last straw ...

"That's because it's not a stupid _prank_!" he yelled at them suddenly.

He was aware that he had the complete attention of the entire room now. And he felt like the prime exhibit in some Muggle Freak Show. See the woman with two heads. See the snake man who can put his feet on the back of his head. Next up: Harry formerly Potter, the Boy-who-was-too-stupid-too-die.

The twins looked at each other in puzzlement and a lack of understanding that almost rivalled Ron's. Harry groaned.

"Look, I didn't do this because I wanted to _prank_ people," he added in a more normal tone of voice. "I did it, because I needed to do this. Because I thought it was the right thing to do. And because I'm obviously getting something out of it, which is that I want to be _normal_. I simply want to be this guy you know who is a friend of yours because he's a good sort, and nice to hang around. Not because he's _Harry Bloody Potter_!"

He let his gaze sweep the rest of the room.

"I _hate_," he snarled coldly. "The attention. I _detest_ everyone staring at me. I _abhor_ that you are talking about me behind my back. Judging me. Gossiping. Thinking that I don't have any right to privacy because I'm _Harry Bloody Potter_. That you assume you know what I'm like, even when you don't have a clue. That I have to be what everyone expects of me, and when I'm not, I get blamed for it."

"I," he said forcefully. "Am not an _idol_. That you can put on a pedestal. I'm just … me! Just a guy like everyone else!"

He'd almost screamed the last sentence. As he stared at them all, he saw the glimmer of comprehension in a few eyes. But most of them … obviously didn't understand. Mostly they appeared taken aback, and looked at each other in confusion. He'd really lost it this time. Harry groaned again and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, displacing his glasses. This whole day had been such a headache.

"Ehm," twin one actually seemed disconcerted. "So … this isn't,"

"meant to be a prank?" twin two clearly had trouble grasping the idea that there could be a different reason.

"No," Harry agreed icily. "This is not a bloody prank. This is, in fact, entirely _serious_."

He eyed both of them coldly.

"If you two are actually able to comprehend something like that," he concluded rather spitefully.

They looked hurt at that. And slightly troubled, too.

"Now, now, break this up. Time to go to your dorms," an officious voice made Harry spin around yet again.

Great. Rescued by Percy. Standing there in all his glory of Head Boy, badge gleaming proudly on his breast. Trying to radiate authority, and failing badly.

"You too, Harry," the older red-head made a shooing gesture at him.

"As for you two," Percy tried to give his two younger brothers the death glare. "Stop pestering him."

Predictably, that did not go down well. And the twins weren't impressed by their older brother's display of officiousness. But the resulting scuffle distracted everyone long enough from Harry that he was able to quietly slip up to the dorms. He flashed Hermione an apologetic smile before hurrying up the steps. His friend gave him a rueful smile back and just shrugged, turning to slip up to the girl's dorms herself.

.

oOoOoOoOo

He drew a deep breath once the door to his dorm had safely closed behind him.

Dean and Seamus had been part of the crowd downstairs, and Ron already had his bed-curtains drawn. Harry sighed and headed over to his own bed. So it was going to be like that, was it? Hopefully Ron would have cooled down by tomorrow. He took advantage of the still empty room to quickly put away his clothing.

He'd just changed into pyjamas when Neville came in from the wash-room, gripping his wash-bag under one arm while towelling his hair with the other. He gave Harry a sympathetic look and settled on his bed, vigorously finishing off his towelling.

"Not giving you any peace, are they?" he commented, watching Harry grab a stack of books from his trunk.

"Yeah," Harry agreed morosely. "Why is everyone always so _nosy_," he snarled, putting his charms textbook away rather forcefully.

"People are just curious," Neville shrugged. "You simply have the bad luck that everyone's interested in you."

"Which is exactly why I had my name changed!" Harry exclaimed, glaring at his potions textbook.

"Yeah, I can understand that," Neville said, smiling kindly. "I wouldn't like people staring at me, either. Or talking about me all the time." He gave a dramatic shudder.

"But they'll lose interest. And," he cast a knowing look at Ron's closed curtains. "He'll come around."

"Did he say anything earlier?"

"Nah. Stormed in and went straight to bed."

Harry sighed and gave the curtains a doubtful look.

"He's just got a temper," Neville said softly. "And takes things to heart too easily. Too little self-confidence," he added with a slightly bitter smile.

"Neville, you're a great guy," Harry began.

"But I _know_ I have no self-confidence," the other boy interrupted him with a breathy laugh. "Well, unless we are talking stuff that's green and needs watering," he joked with a wry grin.

"You see, I realise. He doesn't," he added quietly, jerking his chin at Ron's curtains.

Harry gave him a startled look that turned thoughtful after a moment. That was a reason for Ron's desire for recognition he hadn't considered. Because Ron didn't come across as lacking in self-confidence. But all the bravado, and temper, and blustering could easily be a cover. And having a loving, supportive environment to grow up in didn't necessarily make you confident. Being part of a big family simply gave you more people to compare yourself too negatively if you felt insecure.

It was definitely worth considering.

But right now footsteps on the stairs and excited voices heralded the arrival of Dean and Seamus, and Harry didn't really feel like talking to them. He just had time to give Neville a panicked look and put his finger to his lips in a plea for silence. Neville gave him a quick nod and a smile as he watched Harry dive into his bed, closing the curtains quickly and pretending to be asleep. Harry heard a quiet chuckle from his friend before the door opened and the last two occupants of the dorm came in noisily.

Well, he had survived the first day. And eventually he actually managed to really fall asleep.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Thanks for the reviews! The next chapter should include some reactions by Remus and Sirius. And classes are about to start ...


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You wanted to speak with me, headmaster?"

"Thank you for coming, Remus. Please make yourself comfortable. And remember that it is _Albus_, dear boy," the old man remonstrated with a gentle smile for the younger wizard.

Remus Lupin gave him an apologetic look as he took a seat in front of the headmaster's desk. "Sorry, Albus. Coming here just brought back old memories of being a student, you know?"

"Yes, I can imagine," the headmaster replied gravely.

"And well, I was thinking about them. James … Sirius … Peter," Remus added with a weary sigh and a pained expression. "Why did it all have to end like that?" he asked despondently.

"That is sadly the nature of evil. Like a weed it spreads and corrupts. It is jealous of happiness, and tries to strangle and destroy it. Which is why we need to fight it whenever we can, and yet can never fully succeed because it leaves its damnable seeds everywhere." Albus Dumbledore's expression was sad. And resigned.

Remus looked aside, clearly discomfited. "Of course. You probably want to know about the Dementor on the train?"

"That is one of the reasons I called you, yes."

"Why else?"

"I saw how you looked at Harry during the feast, Remus."

Remus continued to avoid the headmaster's eyes.

"Yes," he said tonelessly. "I don't understand ..." he trailed off, suddenly looking up. "Why? He seems a nice kid … he even apologized for it on the train when I told him I was a friend of his father's."

The headmaster sighed. "He is. A nice kid. A nice kid, who had a not very nice time growing up. Lily's relatives … they … are not nice people at all," he admitted.

Remus stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What are you saying? And didn't you put him there yourself?"

Albus nodded sadly.

"Yes. To my shame, I did. They … neglected him. Badly. It is sorted now," he said, stopping the other wizard from interrupting with a raised hand. "They will never do so again, unless they want to feel my considerable displeasure."

"But," he continued with another sigh. "He had a hard time growing up. And then when he came to Hogwarts … he went from being considered less than nothing to everyone fawning over him. I do not know if you have kept up with everything that happened to him but … well, he ended up really hating the constant attention and unwarranted fame."

He gave Remus a thoughtful look. "You of all should know how horrible people can be. How … inconsiderate and prejudiced. How willing to believe the sensational over the truth."

The younger wizard nodded. "Of course. But still … why did he not want his father's name anymore?"

"He does not mind that it was his _father's_ name. It is the expectations that come with it. The fame and mindless adulation. He never knew _James_. But he knows about Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that, and he knows about the name being alternatively lauded and condemned. And so he came to resent it very much. When he approached me to ask for this … and I learned of his upbringing ..."

The headmaster gave the other wizard a searching look. "It was my fault. Thus I owe him a debt. I could not refuse him."

Remus looked away again, clearly uncomfortable. "I have no right to judge, of course," he admitted softly. "It's just … first seeing how different from James he looks … and then hearing this ..."

"I believe he had also grown rather tired of hearing all the time that he looked exactly like his father," Albus explained. "It is sad, don't you think, to be reduced to nothing but a scar and the looks of a dead man?"

Remus nodded. "Of course," he repeated again, faintly, and both his face and voice were blank. "I … will have to think about this."

"Try to talk with Harry," Albus advised him gently. "For all that he is not a Potter anymore, he still cares about his father and would enjoy hearing about him, I believe."

"If you think so ..."

"I do," the headmaster said firmly. "Please talk with him. He will very likely tell you more about his reasons, too. And … it would be just like Harry to feel guilty about hurting your feelings," he admitted with a sigh. "He is that kind of person. He is really a lot like Lily, rather than James."

"Then I will," Remus said softly.

"Thank you," Albus said with a sincere smile. "Now … what can you tell me about the incident on the train?"

"I was reading, when I felt the Dementor come closer. I have no idea how it got on the train," Remus admitted. "I think we might have slowed down. I was not really paying attention, I'm afraid. But when it got colder, and so … hopeless and depressive, I thought something was wrong and I went to investigate."

"When I came to the next compartment I saw the shroud already bending over a student … I did not know then who it was … it looked about to deliver the kiss," he explained, shivering. "My Patronus managed to drive it away just in time. It was such a close thing, Albus. So very close. And if I had not been on the train … and luckily right next door as well ... "

They exchanged a look. Remus looked away first. He shivered again, crossing his arms as if to ward off a chill.

"I must admit I am concerned further," he added, giving the headmaster a worried glance. "Because that Dementor made straight for Harry. The other two children were closer to the door, and it still went for him. I am certain as well that it passed several other compartments after it got on the train. So what does that tell you, Albus?"

Albus Dumbledore gave a weary sigh and closed his eyes as if in pain.

"That someone sent after him," he replied bleakly.

"Yes," Remus said. "That's what it seemed like to me. But who ..."

"The ministry. Voldemort. Someone at the ministry working for Voldemort."

The younger teacher nodded in agreement. "Yes. And none of that is good."

Albus Dumbledore got up restlessly and moved to the window. After staring at the rain-laced darkness outside with unseeing eyes for long moments, he finally turned back to face the other wizard with another tired sigh.

"I had hoped this would give the boy a more peaceful year for once," he said. "But between Sirius Black and the ministry's glorious idea to use _Dementors_ to keep him away, I fear this is not to be once again."

"And now from what you tell me there is apparently another direct threat against Harry," he added helplessly.

Remus nodded. "I will do what I can to help guard him," he offered.

"Thank you. And as I said … please talk with him."

"I will. And I bid you a good night now … I should go and unpack."

"Indeed. Good night, dear boy. Though sleep may be hard to find tonight," Albus admitted softly, looking back out of the window.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Half an hour later Minerva McGonagall came up to the office to start on the paperwork, now that the new students had been sorted. They worked quietly for a while, only conversing about their task, but he could tell there was something weighing on her mind. There were the sidelong glances, and the way the smile did not reach her eyes when he attempted a joke. And her lips spent too much time firmly pressed together.

"Do tell, my dear, what has you in such a dither," he finally asked her, after getting yet another tight-lipped sidelong glance.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," the witch declared with an affronted expression.

"Oh, Minerva, how long have we known each other?" he admonished her gently. "Now tell me, why are you so upset about Harry?"

"Really, Albus, how could you let the boy do something so foolish?" Minerva asked, and the expression on her face was halfway between disapproving and lost. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"Do you truly think he could have done this without my assistance, my dear?"

She appeared taken aback at that. "_You_ really were behind it?"

"Well, it was _his_ wish and decision. But he could hardly have accomplished it without my help."

"Then why did you help him?"

"His arguments were quite compelling."

She continued to look bewildered. "Then ... why did he want this?"

"That is for him to tell," he told her firmly.

"Surely … he is but a child … how can he know his mind, and the consequences ..."

"But you know, it must be a terrible thing to be overshadowed by your _own name_," he added almost idly, but there was suddenly a steely edge to his voice.

Minerva blanched. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hand fluttering to her throat in an unconscious gesture.

"That because of his name, everybody had expectations of him from the moment he set foot into this school. And he could either meet those expectations, forcing himself to be possibly quite untrue to himself, or fail, and _disappoint_ people."

Albus' eyes were hard as he watched her struggle with herself.

"He wants this to _change_, Minerva. And that is very hard when everybody has preconceived notions about him. This is his chance to escape from them. Do not grudge him that, just because you would like to see James come alive in him again. Harry really is not his father."

She sighed in defeat. "I know," she admitted. "James was so … carefree. Such a joyful and happy person. So confident and wilful."

"And you would like it if Harry was, too, I know. But how could he be, with Voldemort after him? And ..." he gave her a searching look. "Unfortunately you were right. They _really_ were the worst kind of Muggles."

"What do you mean?" her voice went up as she stared at him in dismay.

Albus sighed. "James had loving parents. Harry … did not. Their care of him was of the most grudging kind. They gave him as little as they could, and made him work for even that much. As for love and care and tenderness …" his pained voice trailed off and he lowered his eyes to his hands, which were toying with a quill. "He had none of that, ever."

"But, how … why did no-one notice? Didn't you place Arabella there to watch over him?" Minerva's voice was disbelieving. Horrified.

"So I did. But they were clever enough to hide the obvious signs, and made sure he would not want to tell anyone."

"Oh, Albus … and you never checked yourself? And … " the disbelief in her expression changed to rage as her voice went up another notch. "You left him there again this summer!"

"Yes, I did. After a long, a very long talk with them. They will never dare neglect him again, believe me. And if they should dare ..." he gave her a crocked smile which did not reach his eyes, which were cold and deadly. "They will only have themselves to blame for what will happen to them."

"But still ..."

"Leave it be. I have taken care of matters, and he was fine this summer," he sighed wearily. "And you could not make me feel more guilty than I already do."

"But you must realise Harry will never be like James. And that he has the right to be his own person, which involves bearing the name he chooses for himself. And you loved Lily, too. He wanted to honour her name now. So if you want to help him, then support him and his choices, Minerva."

She folded easily after that, her expression softening.

"Yes," she murmured. "Of course I will."

"And please, keep an eye out for him. He knows most there is to know about … his godfather, and the danger Sirius poses. Harry accepts we will need to keep him close to Hogwarts because of that. But ... unfortunately, it seems the Dementors themselves might present him a danger, too."

Minerva blanched. "That is … most worrisome. But was it … wise to tell him about Sirius Black? Harry is still a child, Albus, he needs to be protected ..."

The headmaster's eyes grew distant.

"Sadly … he is not, Minerva. Please do not make the mistake of treating him like one. I would preserve his childhood … if there was anything left to preserve. And I would doubly wrong him now, if I were to treat him like an ignorant child, when it is thanks to me he never had the chance to be one. Instead I must now honour my debt by arming him as best I can for what is to come."

"So please, watch over him. And if he should come to you with any concerns, or observations … do not disregard them. Circumstances have made him grow up beyond his years. Which is both a blessing, and a curse for him. Let us at least not waste the blessing," he told her with an earnest look.

She clearly was not happy. But she understood enough now that she would do as he had asked. And the least he could do for Harry, was to give him what allies he could.

.

oOoOoOoOo

For all that he'd gone to bed straight after the feast, Harry awoke the next morning feeling wrung out and out of sorts. Sleep had eluded him for the longest time, and he'd spent long hours staring into the darkness of his bed-curtains while trying to analyse the happenings of the day. It must have been well after midnight when he finally drifted off into uneasy slumber.

But it wasn't just that he still felt tired and anything but well-rested. He was also feeling rather apprehensive. Last night his mind had kept replaying the confrontation with Ron, trying to figure out if he could have gone about it better. Of course, there was nothing he could do about Ron's reaction to Harry no longer being a Potter. But he _could_ have told Ron earlier about the name-change, instead of letting him find out with everyone else.

And lying awake, in the unrelenting quiet of the dorm, he finally had to admit the truth to himself.

He'd simply been afraid. Afraid of loosing his best friends. Because _that_ was the real reason he'd waited to tell them. Yes, the press finding out had been a consideration. But mostly he'd simply been too cowardly to tell them. And that was stupid, because he'd known they would find out. All he'd done was delay the inevitable. But his stomach had clenched every time he'd considered telling them. His mouth had dried, his quill had ground to a halt, and his brain had refused to come up with the words to express himself.

It was easy being a Gryffindor when confronting evil wizards and basilisks. That was clear-cut, and the danger of the moment made the decisions obvious. But he found it hard to be one when faced with relationships. Because he was pants at dealing with _friends_. After all, he didn't have any for most of his life. For that matter, he didn't have all that many now, either. So the very thought of loosing them had terrified him. And he was horribly bad at opening up to people. At letting them close. He'd been a loner all his life, thanks to the efforts of his relatives, and consequently he didn't really know how to handle people.

And so he had delayed, and pushed it all away until it was unavoidable.

And thus he'd created an even worse mess.

All of which meant he was very reluctant to get up and face people this morning, especially his friend. Though he was doubtful if he would still be able to call Ron his friend at the end of the day. But he pretended to himself that he was a good little Gryffindor, and got up and showered and got dressed. Which at least made him feel less wrung out. It also helped in avoiding Ron, who'd left the room by the time Harry got back from the shower.

But now breakfast was looming ahead. Which meant braving the Great Hall, and not only his friends, but everybody else, too.

And everybody by now had plenty of time to talk about him, and form ideas and misconceptions about what Harry had done.

He went downstairs anyway.

As he slipped into a seat beside Hermione, Harry cast a worried look at Ron. The red-head seemed relatively calm, but he was subdued and refused to talk all through breakfast, which made Harry realise how much his friend normally contributed to the conversation. Hermione tried to make up for Ron's silence, but she sounded forced. And she kept shooting Ron reproving glares, which were probably not helping. Harry badly wanted to get up and run away, but he forced himself to stay and try to make at least a token attempt at eating.

Finally, towards the end of the meal, Ron suddenly put his fork down and looked straight at him. Harry tried to meet his friend's eyes calmly, but his insides were churning.

"Look," Ron said, sounding strangled. "I can't say that I understand … all this. But I _do_ want to be your friend."

The red-head lowered his eyes to the table again, and toyed with the remaining food on his plate for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"And yeah, I guess I feel hurt you didn't tell us. Though I think I can understand that part, actually," he admitted with a rueful expression. "So anyway, I don't get it. The why and everything. But you are right about one thing … you are still _Harry."_

"Yes, I am," Harry told him firmly. "Though I'm probably a bit different from what you are used to. But not _that_ much different."

Ron gave him an uneasy look.

"We'll see, then. Though, please don't make me call you 'Harold'," he pleaded. "That one's every bit as horrid as 'Ronald'!"

Harry almost laughed at his friend's horrified expression.

"Don't worry," he said with a reassuring smile. "I'll always be Harry to you, I hope."

"Why did you go for that name anyway?" Hermione asked him curiously.

Harry shrugged, feeling relieved that a lot of the tension was finally gone from the air.

"Dunno really. But 'Harry Evans' just doesn't ring. So I went with 'Harold Evans' for when I'm being formal. But otherwise I'll simply be 'Harry'," he explained with a hopeful smile.

"Hmm, you may be right about the 'Harry Evans'," she admitted, tilting her head sideways. "Just 'Harold Evans', though? I'd have thought you'd keep the 'James' at least?"

He sighed. "I thought about it," he said, letting his gaze stray across the room. It still met a disconcerting number of people staring back at him.

"But 'Mione, and please don't take this the wrong way," he said hastily, with an apologetic look at her. "The only time anyone ever used my middle name was when they were yelling at me or chastising me."

Hermione blushed at that and lowered her eyes. However, she was spared having to say anything because right then McGonagall showed up to hand out their class-schedules. Harry's Head of House was looking him straight in the eye when she handed over his schedule. To Harry's great relief she was smiling softly, and the look of disapproval from yesterday seemed gone. He gave her a questioning gaze, which earned him a quick nod and a reassuring smile before she moved on. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh look, we have Divination first thing," Ron exclaimed, appearing pleased to start the week with something new.

Harry's relieved sigh turned into a wince. He knew he'd forgotten something. Oh, dear. And Ron had just come around mostly, too. He grimaced, feeling his stomach clench. Still, there was nothing for it. He'd have to bite into the apple, no matter how sour it was.

"Ron," he began tentatively, getting his friend's attention.

"Yeah?"

"I … have another confession to make," Harry said unhappily, keeping his eyes down.

There was a long moment of silence.

"What about?"

Ron sounded uneasy.

Harry sighed. "I owe you another apology," he admitted, looking back up at his friend. Who was starting to look apprehensive now. Unfortunately there was nothing Harry could do about it. He plunged on.

"Because," he drew a deep breath. "And I'm really sorry for ditching you, but I'm not taking Divination."

Ron's expression was stunned. And turning hurt again.

"Why not," he asked hoarsely.

"Bill convinced me it would be pointless," Harry told him quietly. "And Ron, I'm sorry for abandoning you," he repeated hurriedly. "But I just can't afford to go for classes which give easy marks. You _know_ the things that keep happening to me. I need every advantage I can get, if I want to survive," he concluded earnestly.

He felt bad for playing that card, which came too close to a guilt-trip for comfort, but it was probably the only thing which could make Ron understand. The red-head was still looking stunned. And definitely hurt now. But at least he wasn't yelling.

"Why didn't you at least tell me?" Ron finally asked. His voice sounded choked. "I mean, this was hardly a big secret you needed to keep from everyone?"

Harry winced. Because Ron was certainly right about that.

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted.

"I … I guess I simply didn't think," he added, with a guilty expression. "You're right, I should have told you about that one at least. I'm sorry," he repeated to Ron's accusatory face.

The red-head ran a hand through his hair and looked away.

"Are you sure you really want to be my friend?" he asked harshly.

It was Harry's turn to look stunned.

"Oh Merlin, yes," he breathed, feeling suddenly terrified with the realisation how badly he'd messed this up. "I'm so sorry. I … I just didn't think. I _do_ want your friendship, Ron, I really do," he pleaded.

Ron gave him a glance that was heavy with doubt. And a tightening of his mouth that was both hurt and a bit hostile.

"I guess I've gotten into a bad habit of not telling stuff," Harry admitted, closing his eyes and grimacing.

"And I was afraid you'd take it badly and … now it's even worse," he concluded helplessly, realising his mistake. Because he could … barely ... excuse not telling them about the name-change. But he had no excuse at all for not telling Ron about Divination.

Once again he'd messed up because he didn't trust people. And because he was too much of a coward. Or too self-absorbed to realise that in trying to avoid a confrontation, he'd eventually make it much worse once the truth came out. And that it would hurt people even more when it did. He certainly was stupid sometimes.

"I didn't think this through. And I should have! I _know_ how it feels when people don't tell you stuff you ought to know. And now I'm the one doing it!" he said, struggling with an overwhelming feeling of self-loathing.

"Harry ..." Hermione said, putting a hand on his arm. Her eyes were on Ron, though. Who was frowning hard, and seemed very unhappy.

"No. I'm a horrible friend," Harry moaned, hiding his face in his hands, with his shoulders slumping dejectedly.

"I wouldn't say … horrible," Ron said after a lengthy pause, sounding relatively neutral. Harry looked up hopefully, but Ron was still scowling.

"But you're not being a terribly _good_ friend right now, either," the red-head added harshly.

Harry simply nodded. He deserved this judgement.

"So. Anything else you've forgotten to tell us about?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Uhm. That I intend to work much harder in class from now on?" Harry offered, trying hard to remember if he'd kept anything else from his friends. "I really need to, you know. I have to take this serious. Dumbledore is sure Voldemort is still out there. That he'll come back," he confided, watching Ron's expression turn frightened. And a bit green.

"So I guess that's another thing. Because being my friends makes you a target, too. Me not being Harry Potter anymore isn't going to change this. You shouldn't want to be my friends," he said, feeling rather hopeless. "Especially not with me being such a bad friend back."

"Harry ..." Hermione began again, but he cut her off.

"Because I don't know how to be a friend. I never had any friends before Hogwarts," he admitted, feeling irrationally ashamed for this lack.

"And I was so afraid you'd take it badly, that I … I simply couldn't tell you. And now it's all messed up because I'm really a coward. It's all my fault."

Ron just stared at him. There was hurt in his stare, and confusion, and an edge of hostility, too. It pained Harry to look back, but he forced himself to, trying to put all the wretchedness he felt about this situation he'd caused into his expression.

"Yeah, well …" Ron finally said, tearing his gaze away and standing up abruptly. "We'll see, I guess."

It was better than outright rejection, at least.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry felt downcast as he headed off to Gryffindor tower to collect his books for today. Just as he was about to leave the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore's voice calling his name arrested him in the process of opening the door.

"Sir?" he asked, looking back up at the headmaster who had come up behind him.

"Walk with me for a moment, Harry."

"All right, sir," Harry said reluctantly, not really feeling like talking at the moment, but he fell into step beside the old wizard.

"How are you holding up, dear boy?" Dumbledore asked him quietly once they were away from the press of students exiting the Great Hall to get to their classes.

"Not so good, sir," Harry admitted dejectedly, keeping his eyes on the floor. "I … should have told Ron and Hermione. It would have been much better. Not telling them was a mistake."

"Sometimes it is unavoidable that we make mistakes," Dumbledore told Harry gravely, and there was regret in his voice. "But once done, dwelling on regret does little good, dear boy."

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry said, looking up to find the headmaster staring off into the distance.

"That I, too, regret many of my decisions, especially those regarding you," the old wizard admitted. "But it does not help anybody, if we get caught up in feelings of guilt and regret. The wise man admits his mistakes, learns from them and moves on. And of course does his best to make up for them," he concluded, peering down at Harry with a sad smile.

"And what you should learn from this is that sometimes we have to keep secrets, because not doing so would do great harm. But when we do so only to spare the feelings of others, or because we are afraid of admitting to something ..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off, and his smile turned rueful.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I realised that last night. I've been a real coward about this. Keeping secrets because you don't want to hurt someone is really very stupid when they are bound to find out anyway. It ends up hurting them even more once they do," he concluded, scowling unhappily.

"Well, then you have already passed the first steps," the headmaster said with an encouraging expression. "Now you just have to try to make up for it. And not do it again," he added thoughtfully.

"_That's_ going to be the hard part," Harry admitted glumly.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Learning is never easy, Harry. At least not the worthwhile things. And growing up is often painful, but much preferable to staying a thoughtless child."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking away.

He felt relieved to see the gargoyle ahead that guarded the headmaster's office. The old wizard's words were making him uncomfortable in their truth. Dumbledore stopped once they reached it and turned to face him fully, reaching out a gentle hand to tilt Harry's face up and looking straight into his eyes.

"Always remember, Harry," he said quietly, but with a strangely intense expression on his face. "That the price of having friends … is being a friend. And that it takes two equal sides for a true friendship. Mr. Weasley will likely forgive you, especially if you can show him you are sincere in learning from your mistakes and not keeping your friends at arm's length again. Just as you need to forgive him his insecurities and immaturity until he can grow out of them."

Dumbledore's eyes were earnest as he continued: "You are both still young. And that means there would be a long time to nurse regrets if you let your friendships fail now, just because you are afraid of loosing them."

Harry found his voice had deserted him, so he gave the headmaster a jerky nod instead. Dumbledore gave him a long, searching look in return, which made Harry feel as if he was an open book for the old wizard to read.

"Remember," Dumbledore repeated softly, with a final pat on Harry's shoulder and a gentle smile, before he turned to ascend the staircase to his office.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Ron heaved a great sigh as he sat down next to Harry for lunch. He quickly loaded up his plate with food, but unlike normally when he would tear into it immediately, he stared at it morosely for long moments before looking straight at Harry. The red-head looked like he had bitten into a lemon, but there was also an apologetic twist to his mouth.

"Bill was right," he finally said bluntly. "It really is a load of rubbish."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Divination?" he guessed.

"Yeah," Ron muttered, returning his attention to his loaded plate and poking at it with his fork. "Trelawney must be the greatest fraud like ever," he exclaimed. "You should have heard her go on about the power of the Inner Eye! And she kept talking about death and doom and disaster."

Harry felt immensely grateful that his friend was talking to him again. Now he'd just have to work on keeping it that way. Agreeing with Dumbledore about the need to make up for his mistakes had been easy. Actually doing it … was a big challenge. Commiserating with Ron would certainly not hurt, though.

"Hmm, yeah," he agreed. "She sounds pretty bad. Though she can't be the greatest fraud ever," he said with a frown, remembering a certain other fraudulent teacher.

"You didn't hear her, mate!" Ron declared. He clutched his hand dramatically to his brow, faking a swoon. "Oh, Mr. Weasley, I see great pain in your future. And I see a grim which will snatch you and take you from your nearest and dearest!" the red-head intoned in a high voice, rolling his eyes upwards dramatically.

Harry had to laugh at this display.

"Yeah, she sounds like a real phoney. She still isn't the greatest fraud, though. I think after last year no-one can beat Lockhart to that title, honestly."

Ron sobered up at that. Obviously he remembered Lockhart's attempt at obliviating them and leaving Ginny to her fate all too well. "Yeah," he muttered, poking his food again.

"Yeah," he repeated a bit louder after a moment. "Guess you are right about that one."

And he picked up his fork and started eating determinedly, keeping his attention firmly on the plate. Harry sighed. It would be a long road back to normal. As much as anything was ever normal for Harry … Evans.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Sorry … no Sirius in this chapter after all. But I first need to write a nice juicy bit of Daily Prophet sensationalist slander, which is giving me serious (pun intended) trouble. I really should not ever consider a career in journalism, given how much I'm struggling with it. And sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but real life reared its ugly head and having my father in hospital for an operation wasn't helpful in getting the creative impulses going. He's better now though, so I'll try to get back into regular updates for my stories again.

Thanks for the reviews, please keep them coming! Receiving feedback not only nourishes the author's desire to keep writing, but getting an outside perspective of my writings also helps in making this a better story, too!

oOoOoOoOo


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

Yesterday had been pretty tumultuous. First there was the disaster with Ron at breakfast, which was of course mostly Harry's own fault. His first class of the day, Ancient Runes, actually started out very promising. He really enjoyed the lesson, and even managed to forget about Ron and his other troubles for a while. Sure, Professor Babbling was a bit odd, but that wasn't exactly uncommon in a witch. She certainly was enthusiastic about her subject, just like Bill, and he was glad he'd taken it instead of Divination. The one strange thing about it was that Hermione was in the class, too. And he remembered Ron saying something about her also being in Divination. At the same time. But with everything going on, he probably misremembered it. Or something. It was hardly that important.

Transfiguration afterwards went all right,too, and Professor McGonagall was obviously pleased with Harry's increased participation in class. And while she looked a bit strange every time she called him Mr. Evans, neither her expression, nor her tone of voice was disapproving, unlike the night before at the feast. She kept him behind after class, to ask if he had any lingering after-effects from the encounter with the Dementor. And to tell him, once again, that he could come to her if he had any problems.

Right. As if he would. Well, maybe. Depending on what it was. She'd seemed a bit apologetic. And concerned. So … maybe. He'd have to test the waters. Provided she would actually _listen_, she certainly had the potential to be helpful. So … he might give her another chance. He'd really have to see.

Unfortunately, things went downhill from there. Because later they had their first Care of Magical Creatures class with Hagrid. And while Hagrid was a dear, he not only lacked discretion, but apparently also any common sense. Which was why their first lesson featured _Hippogriffs_. It had started well enough, with Harry being properly polite and getting a ride on the animal out of it.

The experience had been glorious … and bloody scary. Because you had no control whatsoever. Flying on a broom was one thing. You could steer the broom, decide where you were going, whether to dive or pull up, go slow or go fast. Flying on a living, breathing being with a mind of its own was something else entirely. It decided where to go. It took you where it wanted to. You had no real control. You were at the mercy of a wild, untamed creature.

It required _trust_. And taught it, at the same time.

The flight left him shaken, for a multitude of reasons. Exhilaration. Fright. Utter freedom. Fear and panic. The closeness of clinging to feathers and fur. How far the ground had suddenly seemed from up there. It had been amazing, nevertheless.

But then Malfoy had to go and spoil it. Malfoy, who sneered and insulted the Hippogriff in his mistaken sense of superiority, and who got himself attacked for it. And of course the Slytherin then had to make a big dramatic production out of his injury, and run squealing to tell _Daddy_, like the little rodent that he was. Which meant Hagrid was bound to be in trouble for letting something happen to the precious Malfoy heir, no matter that it was Draco's own fault. The Slytherin talked loudly about it all during dinner, how his father would have Hagrid fired, and Buckbeak put down for daring to injure him.

Also people still talked about Harry behind his back, often falling suspiciously silent when he came closer. During meals, half the Great Hall stared at him. Ron remained distant for the rest of the day, though he would talk at times when he forgot that he was mad at Harry. Only to fall silent again, giving Harry uncomfortable looks. And Ginny also kept staring at him oddly, but she disappeared every time Harry tried to approach her. He was starting to get quite annoyed at her strange behaviour, but as long as she was avoiding him, there was nothing he could really do about it.

All in all, he was in a foul mood by the time he went to bed, and struggling to keep his temper contained. He didn't want to blow up at his dorm-mates. He badly wanted to scream at someone, but he was all Evans now. And it would not do to let his anger out on the undeserving.

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oOoOoOoOo

The next morning, however, brought him a fitting target for his by now well-stewed frustration and anger. He'd run a bit late for breakfast, and was hurriedly filling his plate, when the owls descended with the morning mail. Hermione picked up her copy of the Prophet, shock it out, took one look at the headlines and blanched. As his friend read on, her pallor was increasingly replaced with the flush of rage, and Harry was dismayed to hear her swear under her breath. Anything that made _Hermione_ start cursing had to be bad indeed. Finally she looked up at Harry, who was by then on tenterhooks, and simply shoved the paper at him with clenched teeth and a look that could kill in her eyes.

.

**The Boy-Who-Lived: A Potter no more? **

Startling news reached us yesterday from so far unconfirmed sources. They informed us that the Boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, now refuses to answer to his name. Apparently he was introduced to the assembly of students and teachers at Hogwarts as 'Harold Evans' at the start-of-term feast. The headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore, then informed everyone that the saviour of the Wizarding World had his name changed during the summer. This startling announcement caused great uproar amongst the student population of Britain's foremost school for young wizards and witches.

Which leads us, dear reader, to the question of why such a strange thing happened in the first place. Why should Harry Potter no longer wish to be a Potter? What influenced him to abandon his famous name? Was it indeed by his own desire, or rather, as wiser tongues suggested, was he forced by dire circumstances to discard the proud name of his former parentage? Could there even be the possibility he was stripped of his family name?

Far be it from us to cast aspersions on an old and hallowed family name, but surely there must be some good reason for Harry Potter to reject said name and family. An old family curse maybe? A long forgotten vendetta? A vengeful ghost perhaps? Perchance an unfortunate ancient marriage contract which would have ensnared the last heir of the Potter line? What deep and dark secrets might lie hidden behind the bright façade which the Potter family has presented for many years?

Or could this all be a plot hatched by the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, in an attempt to confound those elements of society which may wish harm upon the Boy-who-lived? If so, could he really seriously consider that such a laughable attempt to hide the identity of You-know-who's bitterest enemy would possible work? But then it cannot be denied Albus Dumbledore is increasingly advanced in years, and it would hardly be surprising if he were to start cracking under the many burdens and offices he holds. We can only hope such is not the case, because we shudder at the very thought of what would happen, if the man responsible for leading the light side of the Wizarding World should slip into senility or worse, insanity. (Read more on p.9 about the many machinations of Albus Dumbledore over the last decades)

Of course, this could also be an attempt to further Dumbledore's hold over the former Harry Potter, who is now to all purposes even more of an orphan, with no one to turn to. No longer connected to the many stalwart old families the Potter line used to intermarry with, our saviour is now surely much more vulnerable to outside control. What are the plans Dumbledore has for the Boy-who-lived? Who will ultimately benefit from Harry Potter being removed from his family?

And lastly, one more theory which was suggested to us is, that perhaps he never was a Potter to begin with. Of course, all this is purest conjecture, but the possibility exists that the Boy-who-lived was conceived out of wedlock, and in consequence was stripped of his name and paternal family rights. The marriage of the pure-blooded James Potter and Muggle-born Lily Evans was always lauded as a love-match made in heaven, but what if that was nothing but an illusion?

Was there maybe no love lost between the couple, and Lily Evans, caught in a cold, lonely marriage bed, looked elsewhere for solace? There can be little doubt that former Harry Potter is, indeed, the son of Lily Evans, but who is really his father? Is it actually James Potter, or could it be some other, unknown man? Or worse, one of James Potter's old clique? They were rumoured to be extremely close during their school-days, sharing everything. Was Lily Evans yet another aspect of their friendship they shared amongst them? (see p.14 for an excerpt on the school-day exploits of James Potter, the escaped convict Sirius Black, his victim Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, the unremarkable fourth of the so-called 'Unholy Quartet')

What other dirty secrets may be hidden behind the impenetrable walls of Hogwarts castle?

Once again, we here at the Prophet wish to assure you, dear reader, that we are fully dedicated to discovering the truth for you. We will continue to try to learn just what caused young Mr. Evans to no longer bear his formerly vaunted family name. Look out for further breaking news in future editions!

.

oOoOoOoOo

As he continued to read the utter slander the Prophet had printed, Harry couldn't help but follow Hermione's example and start swearing. The blood was pounding in his ears, and he very badly wanted to hurt someone. Preferably whoever had written this piece of sordid drivel, this utter monstrosity aimed at destroying the Potter name. Never mind he himself had caused it to become obsolete in the first place. He'd wanted to get rid of his name, yes, but not to see it dirtied and trampled in the mud by those … vultures who wrote for the Prophet.

Yesterday's frustration and anger was nothing compared to the way he felt as he ran his eyes again over the worst offences. He felt iridescent with fury. He wanted to storm the office of the Prophet and blow them up and eviscerate everyone who had dared to do this to him and his parent's name and reputation. He wasn't aware that the glasses on the table had started to shake badly. Or that the silverware was starting to do a dance. He just knew he had to make someone _pay_ for this … this …

What brought him out of his murderous rage was the sound of glass shattering all over the Great Hall, as every single glass blew up simultaneously. This was followed by the shrieks and screams of students covered in glass shards and drenched in pumpkin juice or tea. Those sounds slowly quieted down to a terrified silence, broken only by a few faint sobs of frightened students. As Harry lifted his blood-shot eyes from the damnable newspaper, it was to meet, once again, everyone's eyes staring back at him. Only this time most of them were fearful.

The part of him which was capable of rational thought groaned at the realisation that this would be like the Heir of Slytherin business all over again. The other part, which was still raging, almost delighted in the stunned and fearful reactions he was receiving. At least they knew what he thought about this … this … he could find no adequate words for it. You certainly couldn't call it an article. Or news. Or anything that wasn't the foulest of slurs, insidious, underhanded social murder of his family, and the most abominable defamation of the dead. He simply couldn't find any words offensive enough to describe what he thought about it.

As he numbly stared back at everyone, he became aware that both the headmaster and Professor McGonagall had appeared behind him. He turned to look up at them. The witch appeared deeply disapproving, but when her eyes fell on the Prophet in front of him, he saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. Dumbledore just looked sad.

"Mr. Evans, if you would come with us?"

It wasn't a request, of course. But he could appreciate the illusion of courtesy. In any case, he was all in favour of getting away from everyone staring at him in fear and shock or calculation, the last mostly on Slytherin faces. He simply had to hope he wouldn't get punished too badly for blowing up the glass and injuring other students. He was starting to feel really bad about that, which cooled his anger rapidly. It had been accidental magic, yes. But it was still fuelled by his temper, which he had allowed to get out of control.

The combination of rage and guilt made his stomach hurt.

Consequences. Always.

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oOoOoOoOo

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he looked at Harry, who was slumped in a chair in front of the imposing headmaster's desk. The boy was clasping his hands tightly together and looked somewhere between murderous and remorseful.

"Harry, Harry. I know this is bad. Once again I needs must apologise for failing you. I should have foreseen something like this happening, and taken steps to prevent it. Or at least warned you of the possibility," he said, coming around to Harry's side of the desk and sitting down next to him. He gently took Harry's hands in his, and gave the boy a sorrowful gaze.

"Sadly I was not aware how very desperate for any selling story the Prophet appears to have become. As for the utter vitriol and hate behind this monstrosity … I suspect outside hands at work. And it was not only aimed at you, but through you at me and my influence," Albus shook his head and gave another sigh.

Harry just kept staring blankly at their clasped hands, his shoulders drawn up and his whole body tense.

"I have become somewhat inured against this kind of thing, and in truth they would hesitate to attack me directly. But a mere orphan, even if he is the boy-who-lived … apparently whoever is behind this considers you fair game."

"What can I do then?" the boy asked in a hollow voice.

"I will attempt to make them retract the article, but I fear the damage is done. Unfortunately the wording was most insidious … they never stated anything outright. Wizarding law is in many ways behind the Muggle one. There is little to defend an individual's right to privacy, or against indirect slander. So unless they directly say something … as long as they merely keep hinting, and 'voicing concerns' or asking pernicious 'questions' ... there is little that can be done, though I will put a lawyer on it straight away."

Albus sighed again and gave Harry's hands a gentle squeeze.

"I will, of course, attempt to discover who really is behind this. There are many who wish only the best for you here at Hogwarts, and together we will make sure the culprits get their just deserts. But for now, Harry, I fear the best you can do is ride out the storm and stay afloat. I do promise you this: Whoever is behind this _will not get away with it_."

Harry kept staring at their hands.

"All right, sir," he said. "I hope so."

"But you do not believe it. I understand, dear boy. Trust and belief do not come easy for you. And in truth, this is a difficult matter," Albus admitted. "Now, do you happen to know how to get into the kitchens here?"

"No, sir," Harry replied softly.

"Then I shall tell you how to reach it. You know the corridor leading to the Hufflepuff dorms?"

The boy gave a dazed nod.

"Along that corridor you will find a painting of a bowl of fruit, one of them is a pear. When tickled, the pear will transform into a door-knob, which opens the door leading to the kitchens. I will instruct the elves working there to provide you with a meal whenever you want to. Because at the moment, for the sake of everyone, most of all yourself, it might be wise if you avoided taking your meals in the Great Hall until the worst has blown over."

He held out a conciliatory hand as Harry's head shot up in indignation.

"Do not consider this cowardice, Harry, but rather prudence. To allow the currently very turbulent public waters to settle down before you venture into them again. Of course, if you do feel up to face … everyone, you are certainly welcome to do so. But unless you are more jaded than you should by rights be at your age, I cannot but think you should feel quite overwhelmed by all this," Albus carefully explained his reasoning, and his expression was sad as he peered down at the dejected, serious young face.

"Could Ron and Hermione come with me, sir?"

"Hmm. Maybe not for every meal. They are your best way of staying in contact with the rest of your house. Do try to make peace with your house-mates, Harry. Your house is meant to be your family while at school. Unfortunately, just as with a real family, house-relationships tend to be riddled with disagreements and spats at times," he admitted ruefully. "Still, they should learn to stand together with you, but you will have to learn to let them do so."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry found himself nodding earnestly, though inside he was rather doubtful. His own experiences with family were certainly … anything but promising. But he had to admit that alienating himself from Gryffindor would be a bad idea. He was contemplating the monumental task of getting through to his house-mates, who could be quite stubborn and difficult, when the fireplace suddenly flared green. Harry was startled to see Professor McGonagall's head appear in the green flames.

"Albus?"

"Yes, Minerva?

"Do you still have Mr. Potter with you?

"Indeed, my dear."

"We just finished cleaning up the mess in the Great Hall, and fortunately I can report that none of the students were harmed. Well, aside from getting more or less drenched with sticky liquids. But the glass shattered in a very strange way, there were no sharp edges to the fragments at all. Apparently Mr. Potter's magic did not wish to injure anyone ..."

"That is good to know," Dumbledore told her, sounding relieved, and Harry noticed the twinkle seemed to be back in his eyes. "In that case I shall tell Harry his … punishment now, and then send him onwards to his classes. Do try to calm down the rest of the students, Minerva, we cannot have the term start with heavy bouts of hysterics all over the place."

"Of course, Albus. Though I should warn you that many of them were clearly frightened or upset by Mr. Potter's … display. It will likely take some time for them to forget about it."

The old wizard sighed and his smile turned wry. "No doubt. Well, we can only do our best, I suppose. I will see you later, Minerva."

The witch nodded sharply and then her face was gone from the fireplace, the flames dying down and resuming their normal colour. Dumbledore straightened up and turned to look pensively at Harry, who found himself fidgeting uncomfortably under the headmaster's regard.

"Now … I am afraid that in order to appease the other teachers and students … I will have to assign you _some_ form of … punishment," Dumbledore finally said gravely, after contemplating Harry silently for long moments. Harry merely nodded and hung his head dispiritedly. He did feel guilty, after all, even if thankfully no-one had gotten hurt.

"I fully realise you did not do this on purpose, and punishing you for accidental magic ..." the old wizard gave Harry a sorrowful look full of hidden meanings. "Does not sit well with me, in light of what your relatives used to do. However, if only for the sake of appearances, the illusion that you _were_ punished must be in place."

The headmaster peered at Harry searchingly before continuing: "I shall take twenty points from Gryffindor for causing a commotion in the Great Hall … which in truth, you did," he admonished, though his tone was gentle. "And I shall also assign you weakly detentions with Minerva for the rest of the year."

Harry's head shot up again, an indignant protest half-formed on his tongue. He'd just been told he would not be seriously punished, after all, and detentions for the rest of the year seemed a fairly hefty price to pay for doing accidental magic.

"Let me finish," Dumbledore said more sternly. Harry subsided, feeling bad all over again for his rashness.

"You do deserve some measure of punishment, after all, and so yours shall be that you will learn to keep your temper in better check. The detentions will actually be a cover for you to take lessons in meditation and anger-management with a healer friend of mine who works in St. Mungo's. And I _do_ expect you to have made significant progress by the end of the year!"

Harry blinked in surprise and nodded earnestly after a moment.

"Yes, sir. I will do my best. And I do try, it's just … well, you saw what they wrote," he pointed out, struggling to keep the rage he'd felt earlier from rising up again.

The headmaster sighed. "Yes, and I do understand. But you must realise your … explosive reaction earlier likely made your situation worse. No doubt the Prophet will learn of it soon, and they can and will make even more of a spectacle out of it. Or accuse you personally of unfounded things. This last 'article' was mostly aimed at your family name and myself … I fear the next may well target you directly instead," he concluded soberly.

Harry blanched, because unfortunately Professor Dumbledore was right. It had been bad enough with the Parseltongue last year. And at that point, the Prophet hadn't even been out to get him, they'd simply been eager for any story. He shuddered at the thought of what a hostile newspaper could make out of him blowing up like that. He'd be the new Dark Lord by tomorrow, and murdering students in their beds by next week. He met the headmaster's grave eyes. There was no twinkle there now, and the old man appeared sad.

"What will be, will be. Do try to control your temper better, Harry. But for now … all we can do is ride out this storm, and see if we cannot send it back to its originator."

.

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Sirius Black stared blankly at the headlines screaming at him from a discarded Daily Prophet that he'd dragged to the Shrieking Shack. He was badly tempted to scream back at it, and refresh the rumours of haunting which made the Shack such a good hide-out. Because none of this made any sense.

First the boy who was his godson changed his looks so that he hardly appeared like James' son anymore. And then the kid fled from him when he met Sirius. And now this dreadful paper told him that Harry had also changed his surname. Which was all kinds of wrong in itself. He couldn't comprehend why James' son didn't want to acknowledge James as his father anymore. It … made no sense. No sense whatsoever.

Even he, who'd hated his family, never tried not to be a Black. Because even if you couldn't stand them … your family was important. And what reasons could the boy have to not want his father anymore, when James had been such a great guy? James. James had been a great father. So how could his son reject him? He couldn't understand it. It just made no sense.

If only he hadn't asked them to switch … James would still be alive. And be there for his son, whose behaviour was utterly confusing Sirius. It was all the fault of that damn traitor. But he would make the rat pay. Oh, yes, the rat would pay. He snarled his hate, and felt the paper tear in his fingers.

Maybe someone had forced his godson to do this? That must be it. The dreadful paper suggested Dumbledore's involvement, but surely that couldn't be right? Though … hadn't the old man left him to rot in Azkaban? Shouldn't he have known of Sirius' innocence? The old man always seemed to know everything, after all. So maybe it was Dumbledore? But the headmaster had always been on their side. Or seemed to anyway. It was hard to tell what was truth anymore, after so many years with only Dementors for company. Especially when nothing seemed to make sense.

Of course the Prophet also hinted darkly at any number of other reasons, some of which were clearly laughable, but … no smoke without a fire, right? He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, willing the headache to subside. He longed for the simplicity that was _dog_, that worried only about the next meal and a comfortable place to sleep. And the hunt. The hunt for an evil, traitorous rat.

Yes. Padfoot needed to catch Wormtail, and make him _pay_.

He would concentrate on that for now. And maybe everything else would make more sense tomorrow, or next week.

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AN: This update gave me serious trouble, mostly the Prophet bit. And sorry about that, the article didn't start out too bad, but just grew progressively worse. Please do not stone me. And yes, there shall be a war against the Prophet in this story. The chapter also changed and evolved while I was writing it, as this whole story tends to do. That mostly started out with the basic idea of: 'Hey, Harry changes his name, which causes any number of things to work out differently, and various relationships develop in sometimes unexpected ways. And there shall be many unforeseen consequences.' Which I keep discovering as I continue to write this story. Some of it is pre-planned, but a lot of it I do not know beforehand, either. As I said before, partly I'm writing this story to find out myself what is going to happen. I invite you to come along for the ride, and I hope you have fun. :)


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